Dead End
by TheFlake
Summary: After magic has disappeared, all of wizardkind is forced to integrate into the muggle world, finding only fear and hostility. It is in this unstable climate that Draco and Harry meet again. The dangerous game of seduction and manipulation begins. SLASH
1. Prologue

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs. And this is SLASH, so expect a lot of boy on boy love.

Translation: All my thanks to white_serpent who translated the whole chapter beautifully, and Avenalanon who gave the final touches to it.

Summary: After magic has disappeared, all of wizardkind is forced to integrate into the muggle world, finding only fear and hostility. It is in this unstable climate that Draco and Harry meet again. The dangerous game of seduction and manipulation begins.

A/N: Here is the prologue of "Dead End". This is the English translation of my very first fanfiction and I'm so glad I can finally post it here! I have little to do with the translation of the prologue and the first chapter, but I rolled up my sleeves and translated the next ones, with the help of my lovely betas, Avenalanon and Mslefay. It is hard work, but I'm quite content with it, and I promise I'll do my best to update regularly.

Suspense is the heart of the story, so I won't give any answers about the ending, but I can tell you now that the magic won't come back after this prologue. I don't want you to get wrong ideas about it. This prologue sets up the story but the next chapters will be very different...

This story is pretty dark at times, and there will be a lot of angst but this is romance, so I promise plenty of H/D goodness. Just be prepared for a wild ride between these two…

* * *

**PROLOGUE****: CHAOS**

That terrible day of 2 May 1998 was engraved in all memories. Everyone remembered what they were doing and where they were at that fateful moment when the sky tore open and a powerful shockwave drained the entire Wizarding World, changing everyone's destiny forever. That day which plunged them into an endless, irreversible darkness, leaving only desolation and despair. That day when The Boy Who Lived and He Who Must Not Be Named faced each other for the last time, the air charged with so much magical power that the surrounding inhabitants, more than six hundred miles away, could barely breathe, the atmosphere heavy and electrically charged with power and energy. That day when Voldemort was defeated.

That day when, at 7:03 p.m., magic disappeared.

The shockwave literally destroyed everything in its path, sucking away all trace of magic;the majority of magical creatures perished under the blow, the implacable wave reducing them to dust. Many houses simply collapsed, forests were razed. Everything that stood or survived by the grace of magic was automatically consumed.

Voldemort perished like the other creatures which dared defy the laws of death, instantly decomposed, their ashes merging with the dust of a forever devastated world. Even the oldest wizards were lost in the wave's wake: their bodies, drained of magic, couldn't sustain them.

Some werewolves survived the death of the wolf within them, after long illness. In the saddest cases, mutations occurred: the extraction of their magic created a deficiency. Their bodies were too weak. They were left disfigured: half-beast, half-human. If these unfortunates still lived, it had been better to simply put an end to their suffering.

Wands returned to their original state: nothing more than pieces of wood. Ex-wizards were henceforth like Muggles, one held a simple broom in his hand, another stood in front of his fireplace, powder in his palm. Nothing made sense anymore. Many people, unable to live without magic, took their lives, seeing no way out and no reason to exist.

The entire Wizarding community had collapsed.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Only Harry knew exactly what had happened that day, and even he had nological explanation. The final duel between Harry and Voldemort was epic. They had both unleashed spells of immeasurable power, resulting in a real cataclysm. The two enemies were completely exhausted but filled with defiance and rage; they sent spell upon spell, trying to bypass the other's shield, feinting right and left, but it was impossible to say which of the two had the upper hand. The battle was fierce and ferocious. Unfortunately, Harry weakened first. As Harry stared into the scarlet eyes of Voldemort, a vision rose in his mind: his mother crying in a green flash. Shaken by this unexpected assault, he lowered his guard for a second, sufficient time for Voldemort to hit him with Avada Kedavra.

That's when everything broke. The spell hit Harry on the head, but instead of collapsing, he seemed to rise a few centimeters above the ground. His scar began to shine, then a beam of light emerged from the lightning bolt engraved on his forehead. Harry yelled more from surprise than pain.

Voldemort was stunned.

_What's happening? _

Suddenly, the Dark Lord let out a piercing cry: his head fell back, his feet left the ground, a beam of light like the other rose from his mouth. The two beams shot into the sky, entangling, blinding. The beams left their hosts, their feet falling gently back to earth... and then suddenly there was nothing. Silence.

Harry and Voldemort froze, still facing each other. Harry let loosethe breath he'd been holding, and their spells raged again, Voldemort taking the lead. This time, everything was different; the battle turned more violent and frenetic, as if a second wave of energy had invaded.

The two adversaries, absorbed in combat, didn't notice the change in their magic, the aura surrounding them crackled dangerously, its color quickly turning to black. The violence around them grew to disquieting proportions, sucking up plants and uprooting trees around the perimeter, creating a crater around the two antagonists. They continued to launch attack after attack, calling their magic to its maximum... to its breaking point.

Soon, a breach formed above their heads. A roar followed by an explosion in the sky forced them violently from their bubble and threw them to the ground. Stunned, Harry lifted his head and was instantly hypnotized by the chaos before his eyes. The horizon had been sliced in two by a black hole, and it was expanding before his eyes. He felt goose bumps rising all over his body, his hair was beaten by the storm. A sensation almost like the Dementors Kiss seized his chest, only worse; his magic was sucked from his body but he had no way to prevent it, no anchor. It felt as if his soul had left his body. Utter helplessness. Harry had no doubts.

_I'm dying. _

When he returned to his senses hours later, he almost wished that had been the case. All around him, the landscape was unrecognizable. A spreading desert and ruins in the distance. But what made him lose all color was the blackness studded with lightning overhead which had swallowed the sky. No trace of blue. Nothing but black. The entire horizon veiled. A world of shadows.

Then Harry remembered that he wasn't alone. He leapt to his feet, grabbing his wand and turning in a quick movement: no one. He turned to the other side: nothing.

Then slowly, Harry lowered his head, his fear-filled eyes looking slowly at his hand and his tightly-gripped wand. He turned his wrist as if to study his weapon. His heart beat fast, now. He no longer felt magic coursing beneath his fingers. The more he looked at his wand, the more it appeared to be an ordinary piece of wood. He felt nothing inside, and his hand loosed its grip to drop the wand on the ground. Panic froze him in place.

_I__'ve __lost my magic. No, it can't be. But the breach, the explosion… Could that have destroyed it?_

He remained lost in thought, his head bubbling with questions, but the strangely heavy silence and the stale air dragged him from his torpor. He took up the piece of wood again and began to walk. He walked on and on.

Far in front of him he could see columns of travelers. Families in tears. He ran to get closer to a couple and their two children and was about to ask what had happened, but the woman turned on him with such sorrow and such despair on her face that his voice remained stuck in his throat. It was with horror that he understood that something terrible happened while he fought.

The days passed and the columns were filled with more nomads. A veritable exodus. Little by little, as the travelers moved on, they discovered the true extent of the damage. With each new defeated face, each house in dust, hope thinned. Almost nothing was left. The more time passed, the more a terrible realization took hold of their spirits: the Wizarding World was no more. Even the Savior, the Boy Who Lived, was among their ranks. There was nothing to do but leave. But where would they go?

Discussions mired them in place in the evenings- they had to find a solution. Harry himself took no part in the discussions. His mind was completely numb, far from what was happening around him. He found some familiar faces, but none of his close friends, and in his darker moments, he told himself he deserved this solitude. After all, wasn't it his fault? He felt responsible, and yet, although everyone should have suspected that he had played a role in this apocalypse, no one had come to blame him, nor even ask him questions. No, because everyone knew that the battle had been necessary, and that he also had lost everything. No one spoke the name of the Dark Lord. Not because it was taboo, but because the darkness was everywhere, and their only battle was surviving.

After several heated debates, the solution came: they must integrate into the world of Muggles.


	2. False Starts

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing Avenalanon and MsLefay. Thank you for your precious help!

A/N: I respect the temporality of the Harry Potter verse: Harry is born July 31, 1980. I let you do the math.

I won't reveal who will appear in this story but since it is an alternative universe, characters that JK Rowling has ruthlessly killed off may appear, and characters that she has let live may perish.

I know this chapter can be confusing, it's meant to be, but don't worry, it will all fall into place in the next chapters.

Now, on with the story:

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**CHAPTER 1: FALSE STARTS**

**September 24, 2006.**

Something pressed on his face, something hard and damp. His whole body felt wet, pressed against a surface that was rough and unpleasant.

_What's happening? Where am I? _

He tried to put order in his thoughts. But his mind seemed heavy and his senses were numbed. He tried to move his hand but he was exhausted, dazed, and he could barely unfold two fingers, producing a mere tremor of the hand. The tip of his fingers was submerged in water and he felt some drops on his face.

_Did I fall asleep in my bath? _

A loud and constant sound, like the wheels of a cart that would be pulled endlessly. Rumours pierced here and there, sudden laughs.

_Am I dreaming?_

_Are my eyes open? No, I don't see anything. Ah, I sense a light. Is it morning? No, I'm not hungry. I'm always hungry when I wake up in the morning. _

Murmurs far away. Sounds muffled, distant.

_OK, time to wake up._

He opened his eyes. Forms with blurry contours appeared. His eyelids were heavy and it cost him a huge effort to keep his eyes open. His eyes rolled in all directions and his eyelids closed again. One, two flutters of eyelashes. Again, indistinct silhouettes. Black.

_No, come on, open your eyes, wake up! _

He fought against the sweet numbness and the sleep that overcame him, and again he perceived shapes moving in the distance, coloured spots that appeared and disappeared. He desperately tried to cling to his senses and his surroundings, his eyes squinting with pain,trying to focus on what he sees. Red lights flashing. Black.

He opened his eyes again. This time it was already easier. He looked straight before him: those were neon signs in the distance but his eyes were too clouded by fatigue to discern anything other than their colours. He must have been leaning against a wall.

_I must have had a small lapse. Hmm, it's been a while... _

Something suddenly crossed his field of vision crossing out the signs a moment, a distant form, something that fell. He blinked a moment. And again something that fell, then two, three shapes that fell from top to bottom.

_What ...? _

He blinked his eyes and resumed his observations. But he felt that something was wrong. Something went amiss. He looked at the shapes that fell from above.

_Legs, only legs._

He realized that he was not standing leaning on a wall but lying on the ground, on the asphalt. Then the sounds became louder at once, as though his ears were gradually unblocking and what was only rustling and murmuring until now turned into rumble and hum. It was raining hard and he was in a little dead end street, passers-by far away ahead of him. From the ambient sounds and the lights in the distance, he had to be in Soho.

And it's then that he sensed the danger. At the periphery of his field of vision, he suddenly saw the dark and frightening silhouettes of a group of men. He recognized them straightaway, without needing to see them clearly.

_They are three? No, four. The Lestrange brothers and their cronies. _

They were rapidly approaching, the swashes at each of their steps echoing in the alley, and his stomach tightened at once, a sudden spasm running up and down his body. His first instinct was to grab for his pocket. Stupid reflex. After all this time, he still had this instinctive gesture whenever he felt threatened.

And each time, the same blow to the heart, his hand falling pathetically, his lips curled into a grimace. What's the point...

Then a shooting pain in his left arm made itself known, and his face was burning him. The situation suddenly appeared to him as clear as crystal and he moved his head in all directions.

_Where is he? He was with me ... _

A guttural laugh arose, a laugh that he knew very well.

_Greyback. _

His voice was hoarse and breathless:

"Well, pup, it was quite a ride! " He grinned. "You really thought you could escape us? Huh? You think you can defy the League and get away like that? "

There, a great kick caused a dull pain in Harry's ribs. No sooner he took his breath than another blow fell on his back. Harry was now completely hunched over himself, the droplets running down his already bruised face decorated with scratches and dirt, his damaged clothes stuck to his body. Another blow, on the jaw. He already had blood on his face and arms, but under the laughter and the kicks, the red stain spread acrosshis shirt and soon there was only a mass of pain. He felt himself leaving and slowly, he shut himself from the outside, the blows and giggles muffled as they were when he awoke.

How did he end up like this?

And at that moment, the first emotion that gripped his heart was one of despair, and with this feeling came to his mind the image of a black hole, a hole in the skyline so great that he could see neither the beginning nor the end.

Behind his green eyes ajar, empty and immobilised, everything came back to him, all the images infiltrated his thoughts in a flood of remembrance.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 19, 2004 **

Bodies in motion wherever he looked, men, women, hypnotized by the frenzied beat of a bewitching electro sound. The air was filled with a suffocating heat born from the blue neons, the strobes and the overexcited bodies: the musky scent of sweat and sex.

His face remained focused, scanning the crowd. After all these years he could still find them, those who had been forced into exile like him, as though in spite of it all, they remained forever marked by the magic. Or perhaps was it only this familiar expression of sadness, the fear-filled eyes, or the discrepancy in the gestures ... The former wizards were blindingly obvious to him, little fireflies in the indistinct mass of customers.

At the edge of the dance floor, a real teeming hive at his feet, he remained motionless for several seconds.

He knew this world well. He hobnobbed enough amongst this crowd these last years. How quickly everything had changed. His years at Hogwarts, the hunt for Horcruxes, magic, everything seemed so far away, like a dream. Now he was part of the underground scene, and he joined it with ease, in an impulsive distress and abandonment.

But this time there was a veil before his eyes, a distance, and he felt like a lump in his stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment.

He had to regain his senses. He knew why he was here.

_Game Time._

On the other side of the runway, large purple velvet wall seats lined the room, flabby men often accompanied by young girls skimpily dressed, striking sometimes sexy, sometimes ridiculous poses, pretty boys devouring mouths, lying on sofas. A picture fit for a fashion magazine, considering the attractive physique of most of the customers, and the elegance of the others.

In _Rosemary's Crib_, the only entry criteria could be summarized in two words: power and beauty. The most influential people met there. The reputation of this very select club guaranteed them a good company, a personal welcome and complete discretion regarding the transactions that took place there. As for the other mere mortals, they only swelled the impressive queue looming in front of the nightclub, trying desperately to coax the bouncer and to hook on the guests in vain.

It was getting late and customers were completely smashed. Everywhere, glass coffee tables were decorated with empty liquor glasses, straws, toothpicks scattered all over, bottles that were opened or emptied to the last drop.

One table, in particular, drew much attention.

Two burly men, impeccable black suits, were seated at both ends of the wall seat, looking casual, but a careful eye would have noticed the slight tension in their body, the sharp eyes shot sporadically towards the dance floor and around the seats, as if prepared for any attack. CRABBE AND GOYLE.

On the left, next to Crabbe, a young man with ebony skin, a sleek beauty. A slim silhouette, he wore a white Hugo Boss suit, Italian white leather shoes denoting a certain extravagance. BLAISE ZABINI.

On the right, beside Goyle, an imposing man, hair close-cropped and dark eyes, wearing a simple gray suit, some blonde girl stuck to his thigh. THEODORE NOTT.

The two friends were gesticulating, caught in a friendly debate, and cheerfully raising their voices.

In the center, a young man with platinum hair, grey eyes, a tailored black suit, charisma apparent in his naturally haughty posture and his eyes, calm and powerful. Master of himself, his eyes embraced the dance floor before him, taking notice of everything that surrounded him, as if he held a secret that no one else could know. DRACO MALFOY.

Their group seemed to stand out from the other clients, the waiters reverently approaching their table to make another tour, many anonymous glances at them, half-curious, half-fearful. The five men exuded power. Between them alone, they seemed to own the place.

Another man appeared from the bar and soon came to take his seat at the right of Malfoy. A five-day beard, light brown hair, a simple black shirt over black trousers. His attitude was more composed than his two sidekicks, and he seemed more acute. Like Draco, he had a sharpened look. MARCUS FLINT.

Minutes went by before two men, in their mid-thirties, made their way to the table. Immediately, one of the two bodyguards, Crabbe, pushed back the closest of the two with a firm hand on the chest. The man did not give in but remained at a distance. Draco motioned to Crabbe that it was alright with a nonchalant gesture of the hand. Nott then pushed himself closer to Draco, looking annoyed, and told his blonde bimbo to get lost. The two men, nervous, sat awkwardly next to the brown-haired man, keeping their distance from Draco.

A brief discussion ensued, sealed by a handshake, and the two men left the table at a faster pace than necessary.

Further away, sitting at the bar, Harry was sipping his glass. His jet-black hair contrasted with his pale skin, his big green eyes lighting up his face. He wore a white close-fitting T-shirt, V-neck, and a pair of dark blue jeans that contoured his legs closely. His thinner silhouette and fine features gave him an air of innocence, but the determination in his eyes contradicted any charge of fragility.

His gaze was fixed on the mirror behind the bartender. The reflection of Draco and his gang intermingled with the coloured bottles that adorned the shelves all around. The man next to him, eyes shining, his hand glued to his glass, tried in vain to get his attention. Harry did not move a hair as if the man was simply not there. The man finally gave up and returned to his vodka.

The minutes passed and the atmosphere grew more and more electric. The alcohol did its job and people got wild on the dance floor. Harry still had his eyes fixed on the mirror when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He did not flinch, did not turn. He simply pushed his glass down and arose from his stool. He found himself face to face with a man who was about thirty, tall with a rough face and a muscular body. He wore a red silk shirt and had the sleeves rolled up. The hem of the shirt skimmed the top of his black jeans.

"I couldn't help but watch you. You seemed so wrapped in your thoughts. "

His sultry voice fell silent for a moment, and he observed Harry's face, a smile on the corner of his lips.

"You know you have beautiful eyes."

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes and took his hand, guiding him on the dance floor, not far from Draco, at least close enough to be able to catch his eye. Then, he got closer to his partner, pressing gently against him, putting his hands around his neck. At the contact of Harry's body, the other man responded automatically, his pants suddenly uncomfortably tight. He grinned and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. The techno music was in full swing, and Harry's heart beat frantically to the rhythm of the basses. He counted every beat, to focus only upon them.

_Thump Thump 1 ... 2 ..._

He had to pull himself together, he needed to keep all his concentration.

He closed his eyes and tried to drown in the sound, completely relaxing his body, trying to clear his head.

He had to overcome his fear. He could do it, he could do it.

So he let everything go.

He huddled closer against the man, moving his hips suggestively, bringing his face to his neck, his black hair tickling the chin of his partner. He unlocked his hand from the thick neck, to come brushing the muscular shoulder, then the arms, stroking up and down.

Harry focused on the growing warmth of his body, this clammy skin against his own, he grew intoxicated with the sensations. He had to give himself completely to him to make it work.

The stranger lowered his face to lay a kiss on Harry's forehead, right beneath his scar, his hot breath imprinting on the face of the young man. Harry turned his head slowly, dragging the man's lips from his forehead to his cheek and then to the corners of his lips to finally initiate a fevered kiss. The man assaulted his mouth, his tongue firmly planted against his own, dominating the kiss. Harry frowned a moment but quickly took control again, relaxing once more, letting his partner play with his tongue and managing to respond with equal enthusiasm.

Harry then rubbed against him in an even more provocative way, arousing him shamelessly. The man dropped his hands to grab his ass in a possessive gesture, kneading it voraciously, his hand like a carnivorous mouth. Harry, completely overwhelmed by the desire, threw his head back, exposing his neck, mouth open, panting, his body ablaze.

The couple was vibrant with sensuality and drew looks around them, one look in particular, full of curiosity and envy: two gray eyes riveted on Harry.

The moment their eyes met, the rhythm changed imperceptibly, as if deliberately. Harry lost himself in Draco's beautiful and smooth face, and he had trouble believing that this gorgeous man had once been his sworn enemy. In another world.

_Years have been good to him._

Draco was still just as slender and toned, and his face had won over maturity. He was not the young boy Harry used to know, he was a man. He radiated an incredible self-confidence and had an undeniable presence.

His stature was surprising in comparison to most wizards who had been rehabilitated and acclimated to muggle England through the much talked-about government program, Wizard Benefit. Most of the former wizards lived off this aid, hardly able to sustain the standard of living they had once in the wizarding community. Many hadn't been able to bear the changes and simply let themselves waste away. Even Harry had nearly succumbed and drowned in his own grief, letting himself go in artificial paradise and one night stands.

_Have I even gotten over it?_

The situation was more astounding still considering that Draco and his relatives always had a bitter hatred for muggles and half-bloods. Few would have bet on their successful integration in this new world, expecting instead to see them commit some desperate action. Who would have thought that Malfoy & Co. would end up in this select club, radiating luxury and success. Of course, back when he used to hang around the red-light districts, Harry had heard rumors about the Organization and its Snakes, as Draco and his henchmen had nicknamed themselves, mostly out of nostalgia. They had their hands on all the drugs, arms and prostitution networks. They had quite a reputation and their misdeeds were notorious over there. Harry didn't care to know much about it. He knew just enough.

And here he was. They were not too far away and, it seemed, an invisible link bound them through the pit of bodies, leaving them each hypnotized by the other: Harry, in total abandon in the arms of a stranger, Draco surrounded by his fellows, their eyes boring over him.

The entire situation was so erotic that Harry, still in the embrace, repressed a shudder. He felt a tongue drawing shapes down the length of his neck. His head felt wrapped up in cotton, but he tried to focus and enveloped his arms around the muscled chest against him. He nestled his head under his partner's neck and his foggy eyes automatically came to rest on Draco who had been leaning slightly forward on the sofa, his elbows on his knees, eyes sharp like a predator facing his prey. A few seconds passed before his green eyes could focus clearly on grey ones.

In that moment, he was lost.

Harry didn't even feel the man's caresses anymore. Two songs passed before Harry realized he had yet to escape from the handsome blonde's stare. It was then that Draco looked away and stroke up a conversation with Blaise. Harry held his breath.

_No !_

Harry could do nothing but watch the two men converse, powerless.

_No no no…_

Draco ordered another drink, but he couldn't escape the pull. He set his eyes again on Harry who let out a sigh of relief. Harry decided then that he would take the situation back into his own hands. With such an audience, after all, he might as well put on a show. He turned his head towards the stranger, half-closed his eyes and sensually wet his lips, aware of the effect each of his gestures was having on the predator at a few meters from him. Harry slid his hand to cover his partner's fingers and pulled them behind him, over his bum, squeezing lightly to embolden the man. He pushed his leg further forward, forcing the man to spread his. The man complied with pleasure and answered to his movements by pressing completely against him, their thighs entwined. The friction was delicious. Impudently, Harry threw a sideways glance, a mischievous grin on his lips, provoking Draco who answered with an amused chuckle.

Harry continued his seduction when a sudden movement made him start: Draco had risen up. He held his jacket out to Goyle and made his way assuredly to the pit.

Harry's heart was palpitating feverishly. Draco arrived at the edge of the floor so rapidly, it was as if time had quickened. Harry's face was flush against his partner's, who was naive to Draco's presence near them. As he watched Draco, drops of sweat formed at his temple and coursed their way down to the hollow of his neck. His shirt stuck thickly to his skin and his tight jeans were unpleasantly humid. Draco never dropped his eyes, his body moving with the grace of a cat, seamlessly avoiding each obstacle in his way. He stopped when he was only centimeters away from Harry, half of this couple that was entwined so languorously. Draco's mere presence immediately changed the mood of their dance.

About as tall as Harry's stranger, Draco had the advantage. His determined look and challenging posture left no room for mistake; he was the winner of this competition. The stranger now sensed the change in pace. Affronted, he cocked his head as though he had been slapped and tossed a nasty look to his carnal rival. The way Draco looked at Harry left no doubt about his intent. The stranger rudely shoved Draco's shoulder in dismissal, but Draco didn't flinch. He took the strangers wrist quickly with force and twisted it with a rough yank. A muffled scream followed the painful crack. The man grimaced and his whole body sagged.

Five seconds passed and the man still sported his animal rage. He turned over Draco at full length and threw himself at the blonde who, instead of dodging, charged. Draco lost his balance and grabbed onto Harry who remained stiff, aghast by the scene taking place before him. Draco stole a look at him and pushed back his opponent with brunt force, sending him flying towards a coupler near him. The man didn't back down and bounced like a devil, throwing himself again at Draco. Suddenly, before they could even continue, a strong hand inserted itself between them.

_Crabbe. _

The bodyguard didn't lose a second and, with his elbow, he struck the man in the jaw, propelling him to the ground. At the same moment, a bouncer, his earpiece protruding from his ear, appeared out of nowhere.

"Are you hurt at all, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco caught his breath and adjusted the buttons on his shirtfront. He dusted off the shoulders of his shirt and allowed his neck to stiffen, regaining its proud carriage. He cleared his throat and responded:

"No, just a trifle."

He feigned a bored frown.

"Although, I am not sure I am inclined to visit a club that accepts this sort of clientele..."

With a professional air about him, the bouncer quickly replied:

"Don't worry Mr. Malfoy, we will ensure this patron will never set foot inside the club again."

The bouncer grabbed the semi-conscious man and disappeared quickly into the surrounding chaos. The crowd closed around him and continued dancing as though nothing had happened. Draco signaled for Crabbe to sit. After the initial shock of what had happened within a few minutes, Harry realized that Draco was still facing him. He was unsure what to do and the two men remained still a moment, simply staring at one another.

_He's waiting for me to make the first move…_

Harry was now so close to Draco. Though he had stared at this face for what seemed like hours, he was still taken aback by the man's beauty. It hardly seemed real. The flawless skin, the powerful jaw, the determined eyes... Harry was lost in it all and a wave of desire overwhelmed him.

Harry boldly took Draco's hand and brought it to his face, allowing the man's palm to run across his cheek. He drew a thumb into his lips and swallowed it sensuously in his mouth. He caressed it with the tip of his tongue and watched as Draco seemed captivated by the little "o" shape of the mouth that was now sucking against his skin before he released and engulfed it once more.

Draco whispered softly, almost as if to himself:

"Potter, Potter, what happened to you?"

Harry stilled himself for a second, deciding whether or not to speak. But he silenced his thoughts and resumed the sucking motions.

Harry's mischievous face finally compelled Draco to snake his hands down onto the brunet's buttocks. They were sneaking their way into his jeans, touching the firm skin, plunging more deeply and causing a surge of desire in both men.

"I too can play," Draco whispered maliciously, and Harry lost all restraint, wildly planting a kiss on the beautiful blonde's lips.

He bit the lower lip roughly and began attacking his neck like a hungry animal. Unable to resist, he allowed his fingers to curl into the soft blond hair. He could smell Draco's scent as the hair slipped between his fingers. Draco made no attempt to free his impeccable hair from Harry's grip and explored his partner's mouth with heated frenzy.

The two bodies writhed together painfully, groins pressed tightly together through denim and cotton. The urge to possess one another was undeniably strong, regardless of the looks they were getting from bystanders. They panted faster and faster as the undulations of their bodies brought them closer to release. Harry was so close, when a hand patted at the shoulder of the fairer man. Draco stiffened instantly and seemed ready to strike.

"Blaise!" He barked at the disruption.

Harry heaved a sigh of frustration at the intrusion, still shaken. He watched as Blaise leaned in to Draco's ear, one hand covering his mouth. Draco's face grew instantly cold and hard. He nodded and Blaise disappeared. Behind him, Nott and Flint scrutinized Harry. Embarrassed at his debauchery, he averted his eyes. Nott chuckled before leaving, though Flint watched Harry a while longer, gaze fixed, as though he was trying to read his thoughts. The intensity was broken with a nod before the man joined his mates near the exits. Goyle approached, offering Draco his jacket and helping him to put it on before joining the group at the door. Crabbe had returned and the group waited for Draco to close the operation.

Harry couldn't help but feel vulnerable as Draco turned to look at him. At an even pace, always so sure of himself, Draco gave him a kiss. He leaned in close to the brunet's ear and whispered:

"Thanks, Potter."

Draco slid his hand down to Harry's arse. Harry closed his eyes, but Draco made no move, instead slipping something inside his jeans pocket.

"I knew you could find your place easily among the muggles."

Draco's voice was cynical and Harry frowned, recalling the cruel, mocking Draco of his teens. As expected, when Draco's face reappeared before him, he saw that infamous grin he found so treacherous. With these words, Draco turned and left, leaving Harry fixated, shoulders shaking. Nervously, he searched his pocket and took away what seemed to be a piece of paper. But what he found was a £ 50 note.

The music rushed back to his ears, as if he simply couldn't hear it before.

_Thump Thump Thump 1… 2… 3…_


	3. Rendez vous

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs. And this is SLASH, so expect a lot of boy on boy love.

Beta: The amazing Avenalanon and MsLefay.

* * *

**CHAPTER 2 : RENDEZ-VOUS**

**April 20, 2004**

Around 11:00 a.m., Harry finally left the coffee shop where he had spent the morning sobering up. An icy wind hit him at full force and he turned over his jacket's collar to protect his neck. He strode along the streets back to his apartment, his mind clearer, dwelling upon last evening's events: the attraction he had immediately felt for Draco, the ease with which he had gave himself up on the dance floor. He hadn't expected such a shock, such a cold shower, just as he let his guard down.

He couldn't help but replay Draco's words in his head.

_"I knew you'd easily find your place in the Muggle World."_

He recalled his despicable grin; he recalled the bill in his hand.

"Who does he think he is...?" he said through gritted teeth.

He kicked an empty can, sending it skittering across the sidewalk and sniffed, rubbing his nose with his sleeve.

Of course, he knew he had it coming. After all, that's what he had wanted.

_But not like this._

Draco's words plagued his head and the hunger returned with a vengeance, building as he walked up the street, until he arrived before his doorstep in an old building. He opened the door and let it slam brutally behind him. He tossed his jacket and keys on the entry table. He was so pissed off.

"Fuck it," he blurted.

He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He grabbed the orange juice, unscrewed it, and drank it straight from the bottle.

"Rough night?"

The deep voice surprised Harry who swallowed the wrong way and started to cough noisily. He wiped his mouth and stopped at the kitchen's doorway. A middle-aged man with a craggy face was seated on the living room couch.

"McCarthy," Harry said gloomily. He made a face that suggested the man's presence was not particularly appreciated.

"You were supposed to call at 8 o'clock sharp. I tried to reach you all morning, what happened?" McCarthy's tone was condescending.

As a way of answer, Harry swigged some more juice, in a detached manner. This of course only annoyed McCarthy more. The man viciously went on.

"You couldn't help it, on the first night! I should have guessed, a wild cat like you. Yeah, I knew I got lucky with you…" He became harsh, spitting each word, " …but when I tell you to call me at 8 o'clock, you callz at 8 o'clock, whatever you do, wherever you are." Then, spitefully, "And if you get fucked against a wall, I don't give a shit, you call, you hear me !"

Harry's blood was boiling in his veins but he gave nothing away and put on a mocking smile. He leaned against the door's frame and simpered, "What is it, you missed me too much? Don't tell me you spent all morning worrying about me. I couldn't guess you'd be jealous. Really, I didn't know you were that _close_to your mates."

McCarthy's face hardened again. He rose and in two long strides was face to face with Harry. He grabbed him by his collar and spluttered, "Fucking alien, who do you think you are? You know the stakes, don't you? You want me to cancel the deal? You know what will happen to you and your boyfriend?"

Harry quivered. "Remus is not my boyfriend!"

"I don't give a fuck what you two do together, but if you want our deal to stand, you're gonna watch your step. You think you can escape, is that it ? That we can't track you anymore, but that doesn't mean we won't find you. We did it once, we'll do it again. So you're going to learn to shut that big mouth and you're going to obey now!" He added with a deep and dangerously calm voice, "Do not challenge me."

Harry opened his mouth to counter but he thought better of it and kept quite. After a moment of silence, staring at each other like this, McCarthy released him and sat back on the couch. Harry rubbed the nape of his neck and hastily readjusted his tee-shirt.

McCarthy assumed a more professional tone, "So, you've made contact with Malfoy ?"

Harry nervously ran his hand through his hair and settled on the chair next to him. He cleared his throat and answered reluctantly, "Yes."

"And… ?"

"And what?"

McCarthy stared at him with an irritated look. Harry mumbled:

"We… We danced. And you could say there was a… connection."

"Well , did you sleep together?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, outraged.

"Come on, don't play the blushing virgin! Anyway, you know very well what the mission requires of you." McCarthy folded his arms and sighed. "Alright, so it didn't work out." Then, with a pensive look: "Yet, the plan was perfect…"

Harry interrupted him, "No, it… it worked."

McCarthy furrowed his eyebrows as a sign of incomprehension, clearly annoyed, "Then what? Stop with your elusive answers, did you fuck or not?"

Harry looked away.

"No, but there was… foreplay, in a manner of speaking. I… I think there might be something. » He fixed McCarthy with a frank look and affirmed, "It can work."

McCarthy nodded, satisfied.

"OK, in this case, we can move to phase two."

Harry threw him an inquiring look.

"Now that you you've baited him, you'll have to catch him tight. So you tease him, you open yourself to him, I don't know, but this time, you strike hard and you do it for keeps."

McCarthy took out his notebook.

"May 3d, there's going to have a party, some sort of… commemoration. The whole clan will be there. Malfoy and his guys, MacNair, the Lestranges, everybody."

"What? Are you bloody insane? You're throwing me right into the lion's den!" Harry yelled, losing it once more.

"Listen, we know what we're doing, and you know perfectly that a lot of water has passed under the bridge. You're not in Wonderland anymore, ok."

Downhearted, Harry rested his elbows on his knees, waiting for McCarthy to continue.

McCarthy went on, "Ok, so the do will take place in their Manor in Dartmouth. It'll be our last chance. After this, the break ends and they'll resume business in their HQ, and then, it'll be finished. There won't be another occasion like this. Over there, the security surveillance will be reinforced, and it will be much more complicated for us. You see, you have to be part of the trip... Once there, we won't be able to see each other like this. We'll find a secure meeting place where you'll give your reports, and we'll find a way to reach you if necessary, but it won't be simple. We will need time to get everything all set up. Anyway, once you're there, you'll be on your own."

He corrected himself, "Well, not really. By the way, did you spot our guy ?"

Harry nodded his head weakly, looking preoccupied.

"Good. But you won't have many interactions, except in case of emergency. In the end, you'll be left to your own devices. So use your brain…" He looked Harry up and down."…and your other assets."

Harry, disgusted, turned his head away but McCarthy seized his arm to get his attention.

"There won't be a second chance."

"I know," Harry muttered.

McCarthy added then more firmly, "And if you ever think about wriggling out of this, think about your dear Remus, it will remind you why you're here in the first place."

Harry threw him a black look. He already knew the stakes but the reminder was painful.

McCarthy noted an address, a date and an hour on his notebook.

"You're going to go to the Treasure Box, Thursday at 8 p.m."

He handed over the flimsy slip of paper. Harry just grabbed it with an absent look.

"Your intermediary will await you there. He's your free pass to the Manor, he'll explain you what you have to do. "

McCarthy got up and put his notebook back in his inside pocket.

"You know, he's the one who suggested your name for this job. Considering your situation, I must admit it was perfect, a real gift for us."

Harry frowned.

"Who?"

McCarthy flashed him a mean smile.

"Ah, I won't spoil the surprise."

Who was he talking about? A former wizard obviously, but who? The Weasleys would never have betrayed him.

_But maybe under blackmail, like me?_

No.

"See you Monday, 8 o'clock, for the briefing. And be on time for once," McCarthy spoke, moving efficiently towards the door.

Harry heard the sound of the door slamming shut. He slumped on his chair, overtaken by anxiety, a thousand questions rushing through his head, then he finally sank in a restless sleep.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 22, 2004**

Thursday evening came sooner than Harry would have wanted. A torrential rainstorm battered the city. Harry was seated inside a bus, alone except for a group of teenagers who spoke and giggled loudly. He looked through the window, watching the buildings and the scarce shops unfold before his eyes. The rain drops and rivulets distorted his vision, accentuating his sinister surroundings, the dangerous atmosphere of the deserted alleyways and dimmed streetlights.

The bus stopped. Harry took out a newspaper, brandished it over his head to shield himself from the rain and got off. As luck would have it, his foot landed in the middle of a large puddle. Though he nimbly jumped aside, the bottom of his trousers was already completely soaked. He sighed.

"Just great… "

But under the torrential downpour of water, he had no time to grumble. Rapidly, he spotted the Treasure Box - or rather the Treur ox, the only lights illuminated - and ran towards the store. The front was decrepit and the décor was kitsch with an ugly mix of plastic bibelots, copper medals and cotillions behind the window. One of those shops that sold everything and nothing. The doorbell rang out loudly at his entrance. The shop was a veritable bric-à-brac: jars on the shelves as far as the eye could see, scattered decorative objects with flashy colors. Two long tables at each side of the shop formed an alley. Atop them, old pocket books, kitchenware, porcelain figurines, snow globes from all over the world: London, Paris, New York, Tokyo…

The dark crimson paint and the green neons sizzling on the ceiling made the place seem like a frightening den worthy of a horror movie.

On the counter, next to an old cash register and a stand filled with packets of sweets, the shop owner perfectly complimented the bizarre scene. Once hidden behind a magazine that covered his face, the man suddenly folded the journal, revealing his jet-black hair that fell past his shoulders, his pale skin, his dark and piercing eyes, his thin and pursed lips, his imposing nose. SEVERUS SNAPE.

Harry found himself winded. On the landing, dripping with water, a chill ran across his skin. It had nothing to do with the climate, rather the shock of finding his old professor in such a place. Drops fell from his jacket one by one, ticking away the seconds, the sound of the central heating pipes and the crackling of the neons disrupting the silence. Finally, breaking the stillness that had overcame the room, Harry dropped his hand, still clutching the washed out newspaper. He took a step forward, but before his foot even touched the floor, Snape's dark voice pierced him dangerously. The words tickled his skin, not more than a whisper, and elicited a second chill.

"Are you blind?"

Harry frowned, dumbfounded, his foot suspended. Then he saw it. He would have burst into laughter if he hadn't been sure Snape would have ripped his tongue for such an offense. A sign made out of a simple piece of paper was taped on the entrance wall on his left, the writing elegant and neat:

"Please wipe your feet before crossing my threshold."

Harry looked at the flooring of the shop: worn, old grey linoleum. If he didn't know the man, he would have thought it was a joke. He put his foot down and wiped it thoroughly on the damaged rug. Looking down, he could barely decipher the word "Welcome" printed in its bristles.

_Yeah, right…_

After the long drying, Harry looked up, waiting for a gesture of approval from Snape. An approval that didn't come, for Snape merely set his magazine on one of the stands behind him. But why would he need his permission after all?

Harry sighed before moving forward, feeling like the proverbial bull in a china shop. The objects on the shelves looked like secret boxes. Now that he knew the identity of the shop owner, he wouldn't be surprised if they contained special herbs, ingredients with unsuspected properties. Admittedly, these objects would be practically useless now, though they would always be mysterious and obscure for him. Did Snape keep a part of his stock? He would bet his life on it he did.

Harry came carefully towards the counter. A brief image crossed his mind imprinting itself on the scene before him: the pupil approaching the professor's desk. Snape looked at him right in the eyes.

"You're early."

Harry stayed speechless, still shocked by Snape's presence in front of him.

The latter threw at him, "In addition to being blind, you are mute now?"

Harry's face hardened and he gathered all his strength not to lose his temper.

"McCarthy told me you'd be my free pass into Dartmouth it is you that have things to say,not I. I'm waiting."

Snape groaned. "Insolent as ever, Potter." He pronounced the words in a near hiss, "I must conclude these last six years have not taught you anything at all. Am I surprised?"

Harry stayed silent but his murderous eyes spoke volumes.

"Very well, let's get straight to the point then." Snape rose, all dressed in black, and went round the counter, coming close to Harry. His voice was filled with disdain, "I never volunteered for this mission and if there was any way I could have avoided seeing that awful scar again…" He looked at Harry's forehead with disgust, "… I would have done it without hesitation."

Snape ended his words merely inches from Harry, his nose looking particularly threatening so close up.

Harry burst out, "Because you think I have volunteered for this! From what I've been told, you even suggested my name! Before those agents came down on me and forced me to take part in their little vendetta, there were still things I cared about. Now I've got nothing left! And it's all because of you!"

He was breathing hard. The tension fell from his body now that he had cleared the air. They had to be entirely honest.

Snape's face relaxed but didn't lose its coldness.

"Hm, McCarthy and his promises… Yes it is true, I gave him your name, but I wasn't given a choice either."

Snape didn't elaborate, even if, for Harry, the subject was far from closed. In a sudden turnaround Snape went past Harry, the latter following him with his eyes, picturing the hem of his robe swirl around under his path. Snape opened the little chiffonier's drawer and removed a key from within, gesturing for Harry to follow him.

Suddenly, the bell rang. Both turned their heads in perfect unison. A Pakistani man crossed the threshold, his children popped from behind to run towards the trestle tables, their dirty hands already on the bibelots. Snape put up an appalled sneer.

"Hell…!" the family man started.

Snape gave him a nasty look, closed the drawer with a sharp noise and threw at him, irritated, "We are closed!"

The man seemed confused. "But… Careful children, no touching…"

He went over his two boys and gently chided them. Snape lifted his eyes to the sky in such an uncharacteristic display that Harry had to stifle a laugh.  
"We are closed !" He repeated, annoyed.

"But, the sign…"

Snape cursed himself for his oversight and interrupted him, "The sign says 'Closed'."

Then, with his wrist, he gestured toward the sign which, of course, stayed the same and his gesture froze. He winced, lips pursed. Harry lowered his eyes, he knew the feeling. Old habits died hard.

The customer kept babbling, "No, I assure you…" but Snape cut him again roughly, "Well it is a mistake. Now leave!"

The father swiftly gathered his children and the little family left with an offended air.

Snape started to go for the door but Harry beat him to it and turned the sign himself. He faced Snape once more. Both stared at each other a moment, then Snape said with an arrogant tone,

"I will do without your compassion."

Harry kept silent.

"Don't just stand there, we have no time to waste," Snape added, peeved.

The key still in hand, he opened the door. The room was plunged into darkness. Snape pulled on a thin cord.

_Click._

The bulb dimly lit the room, swinging jerkily from left to right on its chain, creating moving shadows across the plaster walls. The room was tiny and austere.

Harry entered in turn and his eyes opened wide. Old magic books on little shelves, ancient manuscripts, vials in an aged glassed-in medicine cabinet. Harry had been right: Snape carried with him the vestiges of their long-gone world. And apparently, he'd taken everything he could. Did he still flick through those books with nostalgia?

The room looked liked a storeroom taken straight out of Hogwarts and Harry would almost believe it if it wasn't for the damned Underground: the vibrations and the humming noises stopped his daydreaming. When he turned back to Snape, the man had already scattered some papers on the table at the center of the room.

He took hold of a thick notebook and brandished it in front of Harry.

"I noted here everything I know about Draco. I warn you, this is not a detailed profile of him. I couldn't care less about his favourite colour, or what he eats for breakfast, but here you have the entirety of his "career" since he first came here, his relationships with his close friends, his team. But I'm not here to give you all the keys. You will have to discover things by yourself."

Harry took the notebook and glanced through it.

"Apparently, you know Draco by heart. I don't see why McCarthy needs me. Why didn't he pick you instead?"

"I am close to Draco, yes. At one time, you could even say I was his only confidant …"

Snape looked away as he proclaimed those words. Harry could feel the regret creeping into the man. Snape cleared his throat and continued, "Draco trusts no one."

"But you just said…"

"Things have changed," Sname interrupted him.

Harry frowned and looked at him, clearly waiting for him to continue.

Snape hesitated then finally told him in a fast and annoyed tone, as if he was forced to speak, "Someone betrayed him, someone who was close to him, _intimate_even." Snape pronounced the word with distaste. "Since then, he is no longer the same man."

Harry, who was frowning more and more, asked, "And what makes you believe that I can succeed where even you failed ? Why would he trust me, I who he hates ? And the sentiment is mutual! He is scornful, arrogant…"

Harry was pacing now left and right. He let himself get carried away, nervously running his hand through his wild hair.

"What was I thinking? This mission is doomed to failure! What could possibly bring us together? Nothing! It's absurd! " He insisted with exasperation, "Completely absurd…"

"You don't know Draco," Snape coldly retorted, his look severe. "He's generous, loyal towards the ones he loves. You don't know what he has been through." He continued more calmly, "I know you can pull him out of his reserve, because what he needs is a challenge. Someone who will stand up to him. Someone who survived, as he did."

He folded his arms and looked at the papers on the table.

"In the past, he used to lose his head with his… partners. He has been careless. He likes to boast. He talked about his latest operations to impress them. And of course, this negligence cost him a lot. Since the last fiasco, he has completely closed up. The woman who betrayed him was very dear to him."

Harry reacted to his last words, surprised. He asked, more than little embarrassed:

"A woman, but I thought he was…"

Snape ended his discomfort. "Draco has no preference." He snorted, "In fact, since the incident, he goes from one conquest to the other, no matter who... The latest one was a real parasite. Fortunately, they never last. "

Harry turned pensive. From his face, it was easy to picture his brain's wheel set in motion.

"I don't understand. If you care about Draco, why are you here with me? You know it will end badly… Betrayed a second time, and by the hand of his friend!"

Harry plunged his eyes into Snape's with the clear intention to see through him.

"I don't know what McCarthy holds against you, but I'm sure whatever his threats are, you wouldn't have accepted the deal… unless there's another reason."

Snape gave a slight smile, probably surprised by the perceptiveness of the younger man.

"It's true," he answered. "McCarthy knew that despite his blackmail I would never yield, but he was well informed. He knew that I never approved the Organization. Draco knows it too. I never hid it from him. I even think that in some way, he respects me for it."

Snape added, stressing the words, "Draco is taking the wrong path. It will hurt him, yes, but whatever happens, he will be forced to get out of this twisted little kingdom he created. At this rate, soon there will be nothing left of him. Despite all the contempt I have for McCarthy, I can't help but think it will be for the best."

Harry stayed silent, considering each of Snape's words. All he could feel in this moment was pity, for Draco, for Snape, but also for himself. The entire situation was beginning to seem so desperate. But if, as Snape affirmed, something good could come of that, then maybe there was still hope.

The brief connection created between Snape and Harry was soon forgotten. The time of confidences was over.

Snape showed to Harry the papers on the table. There were files on every member that would be present at the Manor.

"I want to make sure you know everything there is to know about them. McCarthy will probably brief you, but I don't trust him."

"Ah, because you, I can trust you?" Harry retorted with a skeptical air.

Snape simply shot him an incalculable look.

One hour later, after reviewing each sheet, and listening to Snape's repetitious droning of all the major details, Harry was close to slamming the door and leaving. He was sick of being spoken to as if he were mentally ill and he rubbed his eyes as fatigue started to overcome him. He wanted only to go home and put himself to bed, to bury his head in the pillows and never come out again.

Alas, Snape continued, "Now, we need to meet in the same place you saw Draco, it will be more credible."

Harry raised his head, his eyebrows up in sign of confusion.

Snape, on the edge, added in a waspish tone, "Maybe you'd rather I tell the guests I found you in a dog kennel next door and decided to take you with me." He explained to Harry in an overly slow voice, "If we meet 'by accident' a few days before the gathering, there will be witnesses to confirm our encounter."

He continued in a normal pace, "Afterwards, I will talk to Draco about you and my intention to invite you to the soiree as a guest of honor. I'm sure he'll find the idea amusing."

Harry grimaced at that.

"I'll go with you to conclude this… parody. After that, it's in your hands. "

Harry closed his eyes. What a long way to go yet. He took a deep inhalation and in a breath repeated Snape's formula, "It's in my hands."


	4. Wake Up Calls

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon and MsLefay.

* * *

**CHAPTER 3: WAKE UP CALLS**

**April 23, 2004**

The day following his meeting with Snape, Harry slowly woke up to the sound of the rain lashing against the window. It soothed and lulled him. He did not fall back to sleep but lazily stayed under the duvet, letting his thoughts wander. The situation with Snape had been so surreal, even more incredible than in his wildest dreams when he amused himself picturing the most unlikely places his former friends and professors could have taken refuge. But Snape's apparition behind his counter…

A short laugh escaped his mouth. He put on his glasses but stayed in bed, one arm behind his head. He studied the ceiling, his eyes running along the thin cracks there. He still couldn't believe he had just seen his old dreaded professor who he believed to be lost forever.

He had not thought about him these two last years, though he had looked for him for a while, like everybody else…

After their massive exodus, he had searched obsessively for his acquaintances amongst the refugees. But the task was difficult. After the unregulated placements, the media debacle, the violent oppositions to the integration of the "aliens", as the media nicknamed them, the localization of the former wizards had become nearly impossible.

The sudden influx of immigrants had created a real crisis in the capital of London where the cases were centralized. Soon, the governmental and the social organizations were overrun by the improbable situation. Thousands of immigrants, most of whom they had no record of. The proper authorities were overwhelmed, acting hastily and herding the refugees like animals into abandoned factories they had converted into "Welcome Centers."

In the beginning, it was easy to avoid the authorities by simply seeking refuge with muggle relatives, but the situation changed quickly and things escalated out of control. The populace alienated the ex-wizards; denunciations were encouraged and they were simply not welcome.

At first, the idea of a magic world had provoked - and that is an understatement - hilarity and disbelief. Some had taken out their amulets, magic books, potions and even their wands to prove the truth in their words, begging for help: they had nothing left, no job, no home, no money. They had lost everything. Administration employees looked at their objects with bemusement, seeing no more than cheap rubbish, books and pieces of wood. A group of eccentrics weeping and claiming they had lost their magic, what a joke ! Indeed, but faced with thousands of people testifying to the same facts, that was another story.

Old files were reopened in lieu of the new comers' tales: cases concerning strange events that took place in the previous years, isolated cases for most part, but with surprising similarities with the stories of the so-called wizards. Now it all made sense.

Though they looked harmless, the authorities had no intention to let the aliens go on without surveillance. They were distinctly fearful of the possible resurgence of their powers and "abnormal phenomena". It was decided for the country's safety to equip each of the refugees with a surveillance device, a high-tech microchip implanted in the nape of each ex-wizard. The device was infallible. It allowed detection of each of the ex-wizards, their identification number and their location. The implant was impossible to remove as this risked damage to the nervous system. Some of the refugees confirmed the threat at their own peril by soliciting the help of surgeons on the black market.

Furthermore, each of them had to wear a distinct mark to alert the population about their nature: a green armband that they had to display permanently. The security rounds made sure all the wizards wore their mark, and failure to comply would result in imprisonment or appropriate disciplinary action. Once they were easier to identify, hell broke loose across the country. Riots motivated by the xenophobia followed on. The violence rapidly escalated and took on alarming proportions. The consequences were tragic: many found death in the wake of punitive expeditions.

The former wizards found themselves more and more isolated and they gradually regrouped themselves into underground communities, trying to stay united and help one another. Public services initiated a solidarity campaign, creating mutual aid associations and alliances between the inhabitants and the newcomers. But it was already too late. The harm was done and the number of victims increased from day to day, until the day when the ex-wizards broke away their chains, the day of the St. David's Rebellion.

The operation was set up by Vincent and Daryl Lux, two muggle electrical engineers won over to their cause and who, after two years of unremitting work, succeeded in creating a magnetic signal to deactivate the implants.

On the first of March 2000 at 7:00 p.m. local time, all over the country and notably in London, placed on strategic locations in the capital city, at Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus and in front of the Westminster Palace, every wizard tore up their green armbands and brandished them in the air before throwing them on the ground chanting, "We are not criminals!" The movement was followed all over the world and soon all the microchips were neutralized. The event brought uproar from the crowds, clashes between pro-wizards and their opponents, creating an unprecedented panic. But the ex-wizards were free. Finally free.

_Brrrrrrrrrrr Brrrrrrrrrrrrr _

Harry's mobile phone abruptly interrupted his thoughts. He closed his eyes, hesitated and then let his arm fall out of the bed, groping to find his phone under the box spring. He grabbed it and looked at the screen up close: "Ron".

Harry promised himself to cut all contact with his friend the moment his mission was imposed on him. He didn't want to involve Ron in this matter nor lie to him. He had enough on his conscience already.

Undecided, Harry scratched his head, tapped his finger lightly on the button to answer, then finally let the phone ring till it stopped. A few seconds later, a beep resounded. Harry called the voice mail and put the device on his ear.

_" …message. Today – at 9:19. Harry, it's me. I was worried, it's been a while since we heard from you. I left several messages… I hope you're okay… If you need any help, you know you can count on me."_ A pause. _"I know I wasn't always there for you in the past… but we all had problems of our own. I just want…"_ He sighed.

When he spoke again, his voice was dark. _"I wanted to tell you, I talked to Bill in Bristol, but the track fell through. It wasn't Hermione."_ Another pause. _"Call me." Beep _

With a resigned air, Harry let the phone fall on the carpet and took a deep breathing before closing his eyes again. 

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 25, 2004**

Over his shut eyes, a ray of light. The sun grew more and more generous, and quickly, Harry's face twitched. He whimpered, a pout drawing itself on his features. He grabbed his duvet and, with a sweeping movement of his arm, buried himself under the soft cotton. But peaceful moments never last: his mobile began vibrating.

Harry growled and mumbled, "Can't believe it…" He gripped his alarm clock and read it with one eye "11:45". He made a childish face. "Hmm… "

He picked up his mobile phone, threw it on a chair across the room and wrapped himself back in the duvet. A few seconds pass, and his home phone began ringing in turn. A muffled wail, then suddenly, Harry emerged from the duvet and groaned again, "I can't believe it !"

He jumped off his bed in tee-shirt and boxers, opened his door and arrived in the living room, stomping forcefully. As the answering message machine continued, _"a message after the… "_, he unplugged the phone.

He flopped onto the couch, rubbing his eyes puffy with sleep, and stared at the wallpaper with an empty look. He rose unsteadily, dragging his feet on the floor and went to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of old coffee prepared the day before.

_The day before? Oh yes, what a night…_

Harry recalled his return to _Rosemary's Crib_. The vision of Snape at the bar.

Hard to miss him.

Snape looked impassive and cold, perched on his seat, his glass in front of him. His attitude dissuaded anyone from coming near him. But then, Harry appeared. He approached Snape shyly, playing the old acquaintance card, surprised and impressed. The unusual "couple" attracted saucy comments. From an outsider's eye, Snape looked like a John, picking up a young prostitute. Harry was painfully aware of it. And in this particular setting, the memory of Draco and his last words came back to his mind, haunting him relentlessly.

_Why do I make such a big deal about it? It's all in the past. "Stay detached", the first advice from McCarthy. _

Changing tactics, Harry played the game of seduction, to his great embarrassment and no doubt Snape's too. Even if the latter, true to himself, did not seem the less unsettled by the change of scenario and had put on his emotionless mask. How Harry envied him for it… But in spite of all, he successfully kept up the act, bending over him to whisper in his ear, caressing his hand looking at him with seductive eyes. If he were honest with himself, he would admit he even took a certain pleasure in it. When he murmured the name: "Severus", he had the impression it was defying a taboo, and he overindulged in it, repeating his name each time he spoke to him. He was certain that even if Snape didn't let anything show, he was furious inside, or who knows, maybe… No.

Harry and Snape stayed a long time sitting at the bar to allay suspicion, till Snape ended the masquerade with an abrupt, "I think it's enough."

Before going their separate ways, Harry gave his number to Snape, and in a cheeky move, gave him a peck on the mouth. This action had gotten to him. Snape's eyes widened and his expression was fugacious, as it would stay forever engraved in Harry's mind.

Harry blushed at this thought and took another sip of his coffee, elbows on the table. He put the cup down and tilted his head, resting it on his hand as if it were too heavy.

_I'll have to remind myself to plug the phone back. _

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 26, 2004**

_BANG BANG BANG_

An indistinct shape under the covers made a moan.

_BANG BANG BANG_

"Hmm?"

The shape moved inside the bed.

_BANG BANG BANG BANG_

"Hmmm !"

A tuft of black hair surfaced, strands sticking up in every direction.

_BANG BANG BANG BANG_

_Rinnng Rinnng Rinnng_

The sound of the phone came blending with the knocks.

Harry popped his head out of the covers, all sheepish in his bed, still disoriented, his eyes half-closed and his brows furrowed.

_Rinnng Rinnng Rinnng _

He slowly got up, snatched his glasses and stuck his head out of the bedroom's door. His body soon followed his head, he put his glasses on and stayed rooted there, carefully watching the entrance's door as if he was seeing it for the first time.

_BANG BANG BANG._

The door vibrated under the force of the fist banging tirelessly.

_Rinng Rinng Rinng_

Then a voice screamed behind the door, "Harry Potter! Are you going to keep me waiting all morning?"

_McCarthy._

Harry realized what is going on and put both his hands over his face, shouting out with a hoarse voice, "The meeting !"

_Rinng Rinng Rinng_

BANG BANG BANG

Harry ran to the door and opened it to catch sight of the agent completely wound up, his mobile pressed to his ear. The chain blocked the door, upsetting McCarthy further. The man roughly hung up his phone, putting an end to the strident ringing in the apartment, and glared at him. Harry shut the door, muttering to himself, then tediously removed the chain. He opened the door again. McCarthy pushed it violently in the same movement, and Harry had to catch hold of the door not to lose his balance.

"Eight o'clock Potter. Are you doing it on purpose or what ?"

"Sorry," Harry responded, his voice still raw from not being used.

McCarthy settled directly in the couch as if he were at home. Harry didn't appreciate this and looked at the ceiling. McCarthy started with an energetic voice :

"Have you looked at yourself? A complete log! I'm looking at you and I'm wondering "Will this guy have the balls to go through with the job?" and I swear to you I've got doubts."

Harry shrugged and slumped on the couch. McCarthy shook his head in sign of resignation. He started, "So, the meeting with Snape? The reunion was emotional I presume."

He put on a mocking smile.

"The old student and his professor. A moment to write in your diary…"

He laughed at his own joke. Harry stared at him as though he had two heads and stayed silent. McCarthy regained his composure, his eyes fixed on Harry, the transition so quick that he became frightening all of a sudden. He looked at Harry for a moment, probably to settle an uneasy feeling, then asked him, "So, he must have filled you in about Malfoy."

Harry did not answer.

A smile in the corner of his mouth, McCarthy continued, "Snape is very clever you know… very clever. He's hiding a lot. He's already planned his way out, I'm sure of it."

With eyes still as stone, frightening, an almost crazy glow, he snapped out, "But it won't work with me."

Harry said nothing, fascinated by this character who seemed to perform only for himself.

McCarthy relaxed suddenly, stretching his tense shoulders in the couch, and covered the cushion with his arm spread. He said:

"Now, let me tell you what devil you're dealing with. You probably knew those kids back then, but it's a whole different story now. You may think they're just screwing around, playing tough, but the greediness, the lure of money corrupted them…"

McCarthy looked away and twisted his mouth, looking sick, "They think they're above the rules, acting like true little kings! They respect nothing." His hand stabbed the air like a blade. "Nothing."

McCarthy kept his bitter sneer as he went on, "Four years ago, the city was peaceful, clean, everything was in order." He put emphasis on the last word by tracing a straight line with his hand. "We protected the city and the citizens thanked us in return, they made a little gesture in compensation for our help, it was only fair. It was a win-win situation. And the next thing you know, you little shit heads land on your space ships and go ruining what it had taken us years to build."

He banged his fist on the arm-rest.

"A perfect system ! And when a system works, why change it, hm ?"

He raised his voice, "But noooo, all you want is destruction. No sooner have you turned up here, you hoard our streets, our houses, you take advantage of our system, you steal our money and then you run crying and start bandying around words like injustice!"

McCarthy's eyes filled with hatred and Harry took it square in the face. His look turned somber. The attack aimed at him too, and there was no way he would lower his eyes and keep quiet.

"McCarthy…" he said as a warning.

But the man continued with renewed vigor, "You slyly worm your way in our lives, you build up your little organizations, and the city is yours !"

Harry suddenly rose and shouted, "That's enough!"

McCarthy looked up at him, surprised: Harry was holding himself straight, fists clenched along his body. His voice was tense, full of repressed anger, when he said, "We'd better drop the subject before I say anything I might regret."

Before McCarthy had time to argue, he continued, "Tell me about the mission." He tried to bring up McCarthy's role in order to calm him: "I suppose you've got everything settled with your team."

McCarthy was shaky. They were in a minefield here. Harry sat back slowly and waited for his answer.

The agent finally settled. He snickered with a condescending air.

"Of course, what do you think? Your case file is watertight. We fleshed it out a bit, but given your record, you will fit right in. Anyway, he's probably already got the information. Stick to your story, as we said."

He cleared his throat, the previous episode completely forgotten.

"Ok, now, I'm going to brief you about the whole gang. Take notes, you'll need to brush up on this."

Harry sighed and prepared himself for an umpteenth briefing. 

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 27, 2004**

_Beep Beep_

A hand sprang out from the bed, hanging limply above the floor, then picked up the phone and disappeared.

_"You have - two - messages. Yesterday – at 22:08. Harry, call me back, okay ? I really start to get worried. Hum, it's Ron."_

Beep

"Today – at 9:10. Harry, what's … "

The sound of a touch. The hand reappeared and let the mobile fall on the floor.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 28, 2004**

Harry slowly opened his eyes and woke up, taking a big yawn and stretching like a cat. He pushed back his duvet with his feet and got down from the bed, looking at the clock : 9:45.

Harry drank his coffee in the kitchen, still in his T-shirt and pajamas. The radio was on, broadcasting non stop news that he listened to with only half an ear, more interested in the newspaper's comic strip, "Clare in the Community", and its sarcastic view on internet dating. He took a bite of his toast before hearing the phone ring.

_Ron._

Harry dropped his toast and wiped his hand on a tea towel.

Maybe he had better reassure him. If Ron lost his patience and decided, despite Harry's previous words, to come and visit him… No, it would not do, not at all.

This thought provoked Harry to answer, though by the time he reached the living room, the answering machine had already caught it.

_"Potter. Draco Malfoy speaking."_

Harry froze on the spot. The poised and aristocratic voice sent an electric current through his body.

_"I am calling you myself to inform you that I will be having a party next Monday evening. I would be delighted to count you among my guests..."_

Harry hugged himself, arms crossed over his chest, embarrassed by his sloppy appearance, as if Draco could see him through the phone.

_"Our last encounter was very … interesting…" _Harry felt his mocking smile behind his words. _"But I'm afraid we haven't really explored fully the matter. Monday evening, we will have the opportunity to make up for it."_ His voice was languid and full of promises. Harry was under his spell once again.

How was Draco able to disarm him with his voice alone?

_"I insist for you to come, for old time's sake…"_

Harry swallowed a laugh.

_Of course, a little get together between friends…_

_"Severus has already kindly agreed to escort you. I will see you on Monday, Harry." Beep_

Harry took a few moments before changing position, contemplating the answering machine. He ran his hand through his hair.

A message from Draco on his answering machine.

He bit his lip with a pensive look, then came close to the machine and pressed the key.

_"Today - at 10:05. Potter. Draco Malfoy speaking. I am calling you myself to inform you that I will be having a party next Monday evening. I would be delighted to count you among my guests. Our last encounter…"_


	5. D Day

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing Avenalanon and MsLefay. Thank you for your precious help!

* * *

**CHAPTER 4 : D DAY**

**May 3, 2004**

The black limo drove slowly. Behind the tinted windows, Harry observed the lush park that surrounded the property. The car pulled out onto the alley and stopped. Harry, nervous, gripped the leather seat with his sweaty hands. He turned towards the window again, lowering his head to have a better look at the red brick façade and the lights behind the numerous windows aligned and circled with white. The driver opened the door. Snape exited first and Harry took a pause before following closely on his heels. He put his feet on the gravel and stopped, looking over the gigantic premises. The Georgian manor spread across the land; it had three stories and a west and east wing. Snape walked forward but stopped when he saw that Harry was not moving. He looked at the younger man and called impatiently at him.

"Harry, I think the party is _inside_."

Harry, eyes wide open, shook his head a moment and answered with a brief "Hmm", catching up with him quickly. He ascended the white marble steps and arrived at the top of the stairs framed by two high columns. He took a deep breath, his heart throbbing wildly.

The instant they crossed the threshold, a butler welcomed them with a courteous smile and greeted them, "Mister Snape, welcome." He looked Harry up and down. "I see you brought an escort?"

Snape stared at him a few seconds to browbeat him, which proved to be efficient as the butler immediately lowered his eyes and took his coat without further ado. Snape clarified regardless, "He's a friend."

The butler bent in agreement. He looked at Harry, holding out his arms, and it took a second for the young man to understand he was just waiting to take his jacket. Harry attempted a smile, but it came out as an embarrassed grimace. The butler invited them in with a gesture. They walked into the impressive entrance room. Harry looked up, gaping, and spun around. The golden moldings decorating the high ceilings were true pieces of art and the vaults emphasized the grandness of the place. A grand double staircase led to the floors above, the long rail spreading out at each level.

Harry felt like his stomach was full of lead. He was far out of his element; this luxury intimidated and unsettled him deeply.

Two young girls, teenagers, suddenly burst out of a small door, purses in hand. One of the two winked at Snape before climbing the stairs with her friend in a run. They disappeared behind a big white door on the first floor. Snape did not react. He went up the steps in turn, and Harry followed a little behind. Once upstairs, he could hear feminine giggles, then throaty laughter and loud voices.

Snape stopped and stared at Harry, making sure he was ready. Harry nodded. Snape led the way to a door across the hall on the left. The room was dimly lit and the walls, papered in a royal blue, heightened its ominous glow. Hypnotic background music surrounded the estate and from the sounds of the room, it was clear that alcohol and drugs had already begun circulating.

Harry was merely surprised by the sight that greeted him: guests had scaled all the imaginable surfaces to get laid or to trip, all in various stages of undress. Candles were strategically placed about the room, flickering here and there, flattering the silhouettes, their contours softened, giving to the scene a mysterious and forbidden quality. Lines of coke were drawn on a glass coffee table near Louis Vuitton clutches, Prada and Gucci wallets. Blasé waiters made their way among the guests, proposing champagne and vodka jelly shots.

Harry picked a flute of champagne from the platter that a waiter held under his nose. He felt so far away from all this now. Debauchery and sophistication did not mix well, in his humble opinion. Harry had often taken part in parties of this sort, but those had been in far seedier settings. No refined rooms but squats, no fancy sofas but ratty mattresses. These little gatherings had become sadly familiar. But that was before Remus. Remus had saved him from all this, and it was for Remus that he was here tonight; it only seemed fair. This sad reminder of his old habits made him nauseous, but he also felt the adrenaline run high at the thought of plunging back.

Maybe it was just the champagne…

Harry turned towards Snape who was conversing with a robust man, a shirt half-opened and a drunken look. Harry recognized him: Theodore Nott. Far from abashed, Snape seemed perfectly at ease in this environment. He had probably attended many similar scenes at Draco's side.

_Draco._

Suddenly, Harry had an irrepressible urge to see the young man. He pictured him, lying amongst the couples, torso naked and covered with sweat, eyes fogged with desire, a name on his lips, "Harry".

He felt the heat rising in him and took another sip of champagne to banish those pictures from his mind. As Snape headed close to him, Harry lowered his eyes, ashamed by the direction of his thoughts. He mustered a smile and bit out, "What was the point of spending hours on this outfit…"

Severus, indifferent to the virtual orgy playing out in front of them, retorted with his usual caustic tone, "Seduction demands subtlety, which, evidently, these people have not. Those zoo animals may entertain Draco, but nothing more." He continued in his mellifluous voice: "He is not a vulgar client you pick up in a bar. You need more delicacy... You have to make him want to see more."

He then looked at Harry.

"But from what I have heard, you've already cut a few corners."

The idea that Snape had heard the tale of his impudent come-on left Harry speechless. He blushed and looked away, which seemed quite incongruous considering the activities that were taking place around them.

"And of course, it is for me to correct your mistakes again."

Severus walked across the long room and opened the side door. Harry followed him and spotted Flint slumped next to the window, a girl in each arm. He entered a corridor, dimly lit by little chandeliers fixed along the wall. It led to another row of doors. Snape opened one of them, Harry still behind him.

They entered the light, and this sudden brightness seemed to signify their entrance into a new territory. The atmosphere was different from what Harry had perceived in the previous room though it was just as opulent and richly decorated. The golden tapestry gave a warm glow to the settings and two big mirrors above the marble chimneys on each side of the room amplified its size. A large crystal chandelier dipped lowly into the space from the ceiling, casting the light elegantly askew.

Draco sat enthroned on a big Victorian style chair, his white shirt opened on his golden torso, a brown-haired boy with an angel face asleep, his head on Draco's shoulder. At the center of the room, on a Venetian carpet, young Adonises kissed and caressed each other. Seated not far from Draco, Zabini watched them languorously. A glancing game began between the dark-skinned man and a pretty Asian boy. Zabini finally rose towards the object of his attention and, without a word, leaned towards him and opened his mouth intimately. His conquest caught it swiftly with his lips and initiated a heated kiss. An impression of voluptuousness radiated from the scene, but here it was indolent, refined. Maybe it was Draco's presence that swept everything away …

Draco, the brown head still nestled on his shoulder, spoke pleasantly with a young woman seated on the chair to his left, before kissing her hand, a charming smile on his lips. Harry was enthralled and remembered the smile the blonde threw at him at the club, the intensity of his look.

Snape decided to disrupt the scene and raised his voice, addressing Draco, "Is this what you call a commemoration?"

Draco turned slowly his head, no sign of surprise in his posture.

"But Severus, what better way to celebrate the end of a civilization than with this symbol of peace and love." Draco spread out his arm, as though he were presenting the decadent show in front of him. "Finally, now that you are here, we can truly celebrate."

Snape's mouth twitched imperceptibly at him. Draco then set his eyes on Harry for the first time since he had arrived. The brunet was amazed: the intensity of his gaze hit him full force and made him lose his head.

_He can see right through me, I know it. _

Draco rose elegantly and moved towards him with the grace of a snake sliding across the floor. His body came close, as though he were floating towards him, his piercing stare coming closer and closer. Harry restrained his first impulse to get out of his way and prepared himself for the interaction.

Draco stopped in front of Harry, and his almost sincere grin became disturbing.

"Harry, what a pleasure that you chose to accept my invitation. The show wouldn't have been complete without you, our guest of honour."

Suddenly, Draco came in very close, his arms slowly circling Harry. The brunet just stood there, petrified. He held his breath as they embraced and Draco's beam widened above his shoulder, a conniving smile that only Snape could catch. Harry's neck stiffened as Draco gently pulled away, the blonde's face brushing against him softly, bringing his mouth closer to his skin. Then, Draco gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. It was hard and possessive, and it shocked Harry. Before stepping away, Draco ran his fingers along the inside of the brunet's arm, leaving a soft, warm tickle like a feather against his skin. Snape had watched the whole scene with a growing apprehension. He knew Draco was a player and the glint in the blonde's eyes didn't bode well.

Draco chuckled.

"The Gryffindor comes slumming it with the Slytherins. Tell me, where does this new attraction comes from?" He continued with a playful tone, "After your little show at the Rosemary's, you fall back on Severus ! Tsk tsk tsk… What's going on in your pretty little head, you have a death wish?"

Hands joined behind his back, he put up a large smile but without showing his teeth, his look growing almost unbearable, shining in a malicious, Machiavellian way. Harry expected to be stabbed at any moment without warning.

Draco turned back towards his other guests, his back to Harry, and announced loud and clear, "Well, as you all know, we are here today to celebrate the end of an era, just six years ago, the day when, thanks to Harry Potter, who is here with us…" He designated Harry with his arm, "… we lost everything that was dear to our hearts, thrown without ceremony into the clutches of the muggles. Let's all applaud him loudly!"

Draco raised his drink by a way of toast before gulping its content. Harry's face had lost all colour and his throat tightened; he felt the need to vomit. Draco's words hurt. They had awoken a guilt long buried inside of him. How could he have believed this would happen without a hitch? Of course Draco would unleash his wicked tongue on upon him. Count on the blonde to hit where it hurt the most. Two, three applauses echoed in the room, adding to the grotesqueness of the announcement. One of the girls broke the awkward silence with an atrocious laugh.

Draco turned around to face Harry and stroke his cheek, but the brunet, eyes glistening, twisted away with a disgusted gesture. Draco cocked his head and said with a coaxing tone, "Harry ! A joke, just a joke."

He laughed then, one of those distinguished sniggers, fake and affected.

"Really!" He turned towards the circle of couches at the center of the room. "Besides, how could we not be grateful for what the muggles have given us? After all, without them, we wouldn't be here today, enjoying their champagne, their caviar…" He leaned towards a young blond boy seated on a couch, his head tilted towards him, "… all these tasty things."

Harry, still sullen, looked around him.

In the end, Draco and his court had restored the situation to their favour. They had defied the muggle laws and kept on breaking them, taking away their wealth, seeping into parallel markets. They slipped through the corrupted coppers' fingers, the existing banditry networks, and snapped up everything on their way: a sly revenge, as only a Slytherin could hatch. Draco had finally beaten the muggles, and watching him grab the caviar and bite voraciously on it, Harry knew Draco was fully aware of this and savoured each moment of his victory. 

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

After his thundering introduction, Draco seemed to have lost all interest in Harry, going back to his other guests, lasciviously lying down a couch. After a few minutes, Snape grabbed Harry's wrist, the brunet still standing with his flute in hand.

"Harry."

Harry looked at him and simply replied, "Yes _Severus_" with a smile indicating everything was fine.

"This sight is not to my liking. I'll be in the library upstairs… "

Harry nodded but Snape added straight away, " … not that I authorize you to come and disturb me. You'll have to manage on your own."

Snape disappeared behind the door and Harry whispered, watching him leave :

"Perfect, just perfect." He exhaled deeply, and with a low voice, "Like I could find the library in this labyrinth anyway."

He took another flute of champagne and some canapés from a tray, hanging his head and throwing looks about the room under his lashes. He settled on a couch that was askance from the others and stayed seated for a long while. He tried to lose himself in the feral mood of the party, but couldn't quite succeed. His eyes always returned so quickly to the blonde.

Draco flitted about from one body to the next, assessing his power over each and every person in the room. He seemed to reign pn high in this little world – _of course, he had created it_ – but he was also so detached, always under control.

Harry was captivated.

Draco sat, took the chin of a girl lying there and kissed her. In Harry's eyes, each movement seemed to prolong itself in slow motion, the soft lips of the blonde reaching the ruby red lips, grey eyes closing, lost in sensations, the blond locks falling from his ear to caress the other face.

Harry felt a heat wave wash over him, and slid his hand along his green shirt's collar to loosen it. He eventually undid the first buttons, but it was no use. He decided to get some fresh air and exited out the French window to the empty balcony, with its elegant curves. He closed his eyes briefly, leaned on the white marble balustrade and took a deep breath. The fresh air immediately brought him relief, and he slowly relaxed, running his hands on the coarse stone.

He thought back to the beginning of the evening and tried to plan an approach, a way to take the lead again to get close to Draco without appearing manipulative. Things didn't look too promising right now…

Harry watched the garden with its high hedges and stone benches. How beautiful. The night was well advanced and the breeze blew softly, sweeping his hair from his eyes. Minutes went by. Harry smiled, forgetting for a time where he was.

A silhouette appeared behind his back, in the French window's doorframe. Silently, it came closer. Suddenly, a hand grabbed Harry's glass. The brunet spun around, wide-eyed. Draco was in front of him. He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip, watching Harry closely. Then, he put the flute on the ledge next to him and, hands in his pocket, leaned back on the balustrade, his attitude nonchalant.

"Harry, Harry, Harry…" He said slowly.

His name, like a litany, sounded strangely foreign on Draco's lips, and he felt shivers run down his body. Draco undressed the brunet with his eyes, making him uneasy. Harry never found himself particularly attractive and in this instant, he felt too self-conscious to let himself go into this game of seduction. He didn't know what to do with himself and started fiddling with his shirt sleeves. The blonde's stare didn't waver and Harry had to look away, a rosy tinge spreading over his cheeks. Draco took another sip of champagne and smiled, pleased of his effect on the brunet.

"You've changed," he simply stated.

Harry gave a slight smile. He didn't know if it was meant to be a compliment, so he answered shyly, "Thanks… I guess."

Draco handed him the flute then. Their fingers brushed against each other when Harry gripped it with his hand. More shivers. Draco looked at him without a word, his eyes intense as always. Harry grew awfully nervous under his scrutiny, so he just said, "The Manor is really impressive. It's beautiful out here."

He made a clumsy gesture with his arm to show the interior of the Manor and a bit of champagne spilled on his hand. Embarrassed, he started to wipe the liquid with his fingers when Draco suddenly seized his wrist. Harry gasped, the grey eyes boring into him. Draco lowered his face and, without taking his eyes off him, slowly ran his hot tongue down the back of his hand, catching each drop of alcohol.

The sight, the sensation, it was unreal.

Harry was paralyzed, eyes wide; he was feeling suddenly very lightheaded.

Who was seducing who?

Draco raised his head and passed his tongue across his lips to erase the last trace of champagne. The sensuality of his mouth made Harry dizzy. He could feel the humid trail on his hand, cold in the evening breeze.

Draco's voice reached him slowly.

"I was very surprised to see you at the club. I thought you had gone into exile, left after whichever battle, but I certainly wasn't expecting you to join the nightlife scene. I thought you'd avoid this kind of places."

Harry slowly came back to earth. This conversation he could handle. He ran his hand through his hair to regain his composure and replied, "You could say I took a different road. A lot of things have changed since Hogwarts."

Draco looked at him with interest.

"Is that so?"

Harry continued, words flowing naturally, a thousand times rehearsed in his head:

"I didn't move from London, but I had to keep a low profile." He turned his flute between his fingers, eyes lowered, feigning embarrassment. "I had a bit of trouble, a few run-ins with the police … but serious enough for me to lie low for a while."

Draco let out a cynical laugh :

"What, the great _Harry Potter_ has a criminal record!"

Harry smiled. "Yes, as unbelievable as it sounds…"

Draco continued in a teasing voice :

"I thought I was the only outlaw here. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, wanted dead or alive. We'd make a great poster, don't you think?"

Harry answered him with a lovely smile and Draco turned serious again. He moved away from the balustrade and raised his arm towards Harry's face. The brunet tried to stay still, his heart racing. Then, Draco's hand was on his chin. With his thumb, he gently caressed Harry's lips, his jaw line. He lowered his face and whispered,

"I like this new Harry Potter very much."

There, Draco took Harry by the waist and drew him near to himself. Harry looked at his mouth coming closer and closer, oh so slowly, and then they were on his lips, so tender. He closed his eyes and let himself be dragged into the sweet and soft kiss. Draco's tongue wormed its way between his half-opened lips and teased. Harry reciprocated with enthusiasm. The brunet enjoyed every moment of it, savouring the fizzing taste of champagne on his tongue. Rapidly, Draco became more pressing and the kiss more heated. The two men, holding their breath, explored each other avidly. Draco was aggressive in his assault and, without breaking the kiss, he pushed Harry back until his spine was flush against the wall, near the window, his body pressed against Draco's. Upon contact with the cold marble, Harry broke the kiss to take a breath, his pupils dilated. Draco allowed him no respite and started fondling Harry's crotch. He pressed his erection, eliciting a little moan from the brunet who closed his eyes with delight.

Draco murmured, "Yes, I like him very much."

His hand ran across Harry's flat stomach, then up his torso, his other hand still on his waist. Through the thin cotton of his shirt, Harry's nipples hardened under the caress. Draco continued suffocating him with his talented tongue, tracing each corner of his mouth. His hand ran up his neck, massaging it delicately. Harry was overwhelmed by his touch and whimpered. It felt so good, and yet so wrong... Then, Draco's mouth detached from Harry's, staying just on the surface of the lips, brushing them as he spoke.

"Hm…There's something I can't stop thinking about. You know what it is?"

Harry nibbled his lower lip and let out in a breath, "No… "

Draco's mouth came close to his ears.

"Why are you here, huh?"

Harry was completely caught off guard by his question and furrowed his brows, then he felt Draco's hand tighten around his neck, the caress transformed into a stranglehold. Draco's face contorted.

"You came to spy on me, didn't you? Who sent you ?"

The comedown was brutal and Harry mumbled, managing to let out in a thin voice, " What?… Wh… What you're talking about ?"

Draco had a dangerous look now and detached his words, "Why. Are. You. Here?"

He tightened his hand once more on Harry's neck, the other painfully pressing his waist.

"We don't see you for six years and all of a sudden, you appear at the club, and barely one week later, you go throwing yourself at Severus! What a coincidence! And since when do your fraternize with the enemy? You think I'm a fool?"

Shaking his head to try to wrench free from him, Harry managed to reply in a high-pitched voice:

"We're not in Hogwarts anymore! There is no enemy! I… I knew you went to that club, I had friends over there… I thought… I thought we could talk to each other."

But Draco didn't listen to his justifications.

"Who is it, huh? Division 8? You collaborate with those vultures?"

Harry tried to remove his hands but the pressure kept getting stronger, and he weakened. He answered hurriedly, his voice muffled, "What ? What are you… No …!" He tried and failed to stay coherent, "I wanted to find the others… when I found out where you were… I thought it'd be a chance… to start over."

His stare still hard, Draco coldly answered him, "I don't believe you for a second"

Harry tried to twist Draco's hand but his grip didn't loosen and Harry could no longer defend himself. Thousands of little dots invaded his field of vision and his legs would have given way if he hadn't been pinned to the wall. He cried out, feeling as though he were about to loose consciousness and begged, "Draco..."

The blonde didn't bat an eyelid; he seemed ready to go all the way, his look murderous. Harry grew even paler, his eyes lost in emptiness. Suffocating little by little, Harry was about to lose the fight when Draco brutally released him. Harry's legs instantly gave out under him and he flopped down on he ground, coughing and taking deep breaths.

Draco straightened his hair and took two steps back. He watched Harry at his feet with an air of disgust.

"Now you sod off! You'll tell your little pals it takes a lot more to trick Draco Malfoy."

He left the balcony, leaving Harry crumpled on the ground, head between his legs. The brunet had a hard time catching his breath, coughing again, his hand on his neck. He threw his head back against the wall and looked vaguely ahead. His erratic breath mingled with the sound of the wind. The night was dark now; the stars seemed to have hidden from view, or were his eyes simply deceiving him? His breathing gradually simmered down, and he could not believe what just happened.

_That's it? It's over?_

He tried to think, to find a way to put things right, but nothing came, and he was too disoriented to assess the situation.

He painfully stood up, helping himself with a hand on the wall, and coughed once more. With his disheveled appearance, he looked like he'd been thrown to the street. He put his hand against the window and moved forward, swaying a bit on his way. As he crossed the wide room, he caught the platinum blond hair straight away: Draco had already found another target and was kissing a boy who was completely naked full on the mouth, both spread over the couch. The blonde's hand crept slowly up the boy's thigh to his erect cock.

Harry had seen enough. He straightened up to leave with a semblance of dignity but his feet dragged him away so quickly he almost ran to the door. He crossed one room to the next, blindly making his way through the bodies sprawled on the floor. He just wanted to get out of this place, but after he had passed twice in front of the same bald man dozing on a chair next to a big white door, he realized he was just going around in circles…

_He's the Cerberus and I'm prisoner of one of the nine circles of Hell._

Harry ran a hand upon his clammy forehead and resumed his exploration. He finally found his way back and landed at the foot of the staircase. He recognized the entrance room. It seemed he'd been here many hours ago. Harry mused momentarily on finding Snape, but he had no intention of losing himself in the maze of the Manor again.

_And everything is ruined anyway._

Just then, he noticed the little door next to the stairs. It was the one those teenage girls had burst from, clutching their purses as they were arriving. Probably the toilets . He entered.

The walls of the room were in black marble. Three washbasins with golden faucets on the left, large mirrors with burnished mouldings, three opened cubicles on the right. Harry's shoes rang out on the tiled floor as he moved forward. He stopped, turned the faucet and put his hands under the water, his mind befuddled, in automatic mode. He let the water run and put his hand on each sides of the sink, bending over it with all his weight.

"I fucked it up," he murmured.

He huffed heavily and straightened up a bit. He then cupped his hands under the water and lowered his face to splash it thoroughly. He wiped his eyes and sniffed, the sound echoing in the room.

He felt so alone. So useless.

He cupped his hand again and took a big gulp to sooth his sore throat. He turned the faucet off, droplets trickling from his chin and drip dropping down into the basin. He absently ran his hand over his mouth before raising his face to glance at his reflection. Eyes glazed, he looked at the finger prints on his neck and put his hand over them, delicately placing his fingers in the same position to cover the marks. His eyes diverged suddenly when he saw a movement at the bottom of the mirror on the right. He started and turned in a flash.

There, in one of the open stalls, a girl was slumped on the floor, mascara running in dark streaks down her cheeks, pink lipstick smeared over her mouth. Her little black dress formed the shape of a corolla on the tiles. PANSY PARKINSON.

Harry furrowed his brows and stayed like this, mouth open. The girl had her eyes half-closed and looked ahead. She sobbed.

Harry attempted a weak "Pansy ?"

His voice was hoarse and he winced, massaging once more his sensitive throat. The girl turned her head very slowly to look at him but her eyes stayed at his legs' level. Harry had to crouch to stare her in the eyes and repeated in a clearer voice, "Pansy ?"

"I think something's wrong," the girl mumbled.

Harry frowned. She looked so pale under the crude lights of the room.

"What is…" he started but Pansy interrupted him.

"I think I won't make it, I think I won't… make it, yes, I think…"

For a split second, Harry feared the worst: maybe the girl got a bad mix. It could be serious. But then, Pansy swallowed and mumbled, "What you doin' here, why am I here… hm?"

Harry shook his head, at loss. Pansy started giggling and raised her eyebrows.

" … Harry Potter?" she asked.

Harry tried dully to smile, not used to this fragile and damaged Pansy.

"Yes. It's me, Harry."

She smiled and repeated, stretching his name, "Haaaaarrrryyy…"

She held out her arm for him. Harry looked at her pale dainty hand and hesitated. But then, she looked so forlorn he approached her until she was within reach. He waited for her to move, to at least do something, but she let her hand hang in the air. Confused, he came closer still and looked into her eyes: her pupils were dilated. Totally gone. Then, unexpectedly, she ran her hand through Harry's dark mane and giggled again.

"… always wanted to do that."

She kept on petting his hair, marveling at its softness, looking at the locks separating themselves and sliding between her fingers till the ends disappeared. Harry lowered his eyes and shyly smiled, touching his hair too.

He chuckled. "I still can't do anything with it."

He looked at her, eyes frank and clear, and she smiled back at him. This girl in front of him was so removed from the Pansy he used to know. He couldn't help but feel a stir of compassion. He took her hand and said, "Come on, I'm sure everybody's looking for you."

He made to stand up but she promptly withdrew her hand and whined, "No, no… nice here."

Harry crouched again. "Ok, ok, we're staying here," he said in a soft voice.

She looked at him intensely, which intimidated him. Then, she rested her head against the partition wall, letting escape a tired breath, and the tip of her fingers touched Harry's hand. He met her fingers and interlaced them. The gesture apparently soothed her and she closed her eyes. They stayed several minutes in silence like that, but after a while, Harry started feeling awkward. He looked at Pansy, her breathing soft and regular. She would soon fall asleep. So he pushed up slowly and murmured:

"I think it's time for me to go."

But Pansy shifted and mewled. She opened her eyes and weakly pulled him towards her. Harry hesitated but her pleading expression got the better of him. So he just sat back and let her guide him towards her. She attached herself to his arm and put her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. Harry had no other choice but to wait for her to fall asleep. He let out a sigh and spread his legs so he could find a comfortable position.

_What a night…_

He looked at the empty compartments around them: their two bodies stranded on the flagged floor, and let his head fall against the cubicle wall before closing his eyes in turn.

…


	6. The Princess, the Good, the Bad and the

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs. And this is slash, so expect a lot of boy on boy love.

Betas: The great Avenalanon and MsLefay. Without them, this story would be nothing...

* * *

**CHAPTER 5 : THE PRINCESS, THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY**

When Harry awoke his joints were stiffened. His body stirred, neck still tense and painful, the marks turned purple on his skin. What time was it exactly?

Harry rubbed his eyes with closed fists like a little boy and felt an uncomfortable weight on his shoulder. He turned his head to see a mop of dark hair on his shoulder.

_Oh yeah, Pansy…_

Harry barely dared twitch, afraid he might wake her, but too late, the girl stretched and opened her eyes. She looked at Harry and frowned. Suddenly she whimpered, let her head fall and unfolded her legs, movements abrupt and jerky, as if she were coming out of a deep coma. She set her feet on the floor and went to get up unsteadily. Alarmed, Harry held out his hands as a preventive measure however the girl fell down at once. Exasperated, she moaned louder.

Harry attempted a "You alright?" but Pansy started rubbing her hands on her face, and a whine slipped out of her lips, as if she were a wounded animal. She looked on the verge of breaking down.

_Her system should have metabolised all the drugs now… _

Harry was distraught. Pansy didn't seem in her right mind. But what was her right mind exactly? Harry didn't know what she was capable of. Pansy wasn't supposed to even be here at the Manor. Snape disclosed that she never left their headquarters at White Cottage. And yet, here they were, on the cold bathroom floor.

Snape had told him Pansy was unbalanced. Her parents had been killed in a riot during the darkest times, the first year of their arrival in London. Pansy had witnessed the violent aggression and watched her parents die under the blows of a raging crowd. The trauma had changed her. Since then, Draco had sheltered her and kept her apart, utterly protective of her. A strong relationship had built between the two of them.

Snape had described Pansy as someone difficult, but he didn't know how deeply she had been damaged since he rarely set foot in the cottage: over there, it was business only, and Snape had no desire to be involved in the band's dirty deeds. When Snape inquired about Pansy, Draco reported she was "on the high road to recovery", but the idiom repeated for two long years poorly hid the problem. Harry now had incontrovertible proof of it.

He watched Pansy squirm and asked, "Can I do something?" before rephrasing, "Do you need anything?"

The girl only spoke a name, "Draco."

Harry took a breath and pinched his lips.

_Of course she wants Draco._

Harry untangled from Pansy and left the cubicle.

"Okay, don't move, I'll go get Draco."

Pansy repeated "Draco" like an echo.

Harry rushed out the door. From the big windows in the corridor, he caught the first light of dawn. He hadn't slept as long as he thought. For the second time, he passed the door opening on the blue room. The party was over it seemed, the candles almost completely melted, the wax frozen in long slides, dry traces of alcohol on the glass table, dormant bodies on the couches or scattered about the floor. Under the rays of sunrise, it was the cold unveiling of crude nudity.

Harry carefully stepped over a man whose face he couldn't see, sprawled on the floor. He tried to find the door leading to the boudoir where Draco had first appeared, when voices made themselves heard in the distance. He opened the door behind which the noise was coming. A fiery discussion was being held but Harry saw no one, the big empty room was motionless. A long mahogany table dominated the space, heavy-looking chairs aligned on either side. The room was austere, the decor kept to a minimum, two landscape paintings on the wall and a vase on the sideboard. Harry heard muffled voices again. He went along the table, following the rising voices. They came from the back room, behind the slightly ajar door. Harry discretely crept closer, putting his feet down very slowly, striving to be as inconspicuous as possible, and focused on the sounds to hear better.

" … you, we didn't take anything. You're getting paranoid Draco!" Harry failed to recognize the deep and menacing voice. "If you think I'm going to take your insults and shut up…!"

"The cashbox just emptied itself then?"

Draco.

The other voice turned spiteful, "I told you, business wasn't so good this month. It happens. I can't bring money in when there isn't any!"

"This month? You're shitting me! Last month it was the same story, and the month before that! I'm warning you, don't try to screw me…"

A husky laughter rose behind the door, sending a cold sweat over Harry. Where had he heard it before? Harry pressed himself against the door and peeped through the narrow opening. He saw a stir at the back, a dark figure that crossed his view point.

Suddenly, in his line of sight, a coarse profile, harsh features, large forehead, greying hair falling over broad shoulders, a one-month beard with long sideburns and a square jaw. Then, a ferocious eye revealed itself, directed straight at him. FENRIR GREYBACK

Harry gasped in consternation and fear, his green eye wide open in the door crack. He automatically stepped back, in retreat, but it was too late.

"Well, well, looks like we have company."

Greyback was already on the other side of the door, face to face with Harry, towering over him. There were no more obstacles between the two men.

Greyback had changed. Still, Harry recognized him immediately: his face was both the same and different, less distorted, less shaggy, and yet the beast which was once part of the man, surprisingly remained there, in his feral expression and rough features.

As he identified Harry, Greyback flashed him a bestial smile.

"Hmm what a nice surprise, pup! Did you get lost?"

Two dark-haired men joined him, a dangerous air on their faces. They were of medium stature, a natural ease in their walk and gestures. The eldest wore a beard outlining the perfect symmetry of his face, whereas the youngest had a goatee, making his cheekbone more prominent and his face thinner. They were obviously related. RODOLPHUS and RABASTAN LESTRANGE.

The two brothers sized up the young man, looking both astounded and intrigued. Rodolphus crossed his arms and stayed a few steps behind Greyback, his brother standing back by the window.

Greyback's grating voice rose again, "Draco, dear Draco, you hid your new friend from us? Why, you wanted him for yourself?"

Another man stepped through the doorway and scowled at Harry, a frightening glint in his eyes. Tall and burly, his thin black moustache emphasising his perfidious air, he was still as impressive as in Harry's memories. WALDEN MACNAIR

The man devoured Harry with his eyes. "Now I understand why you tried to cut our discussion short," he said. "That is so unprofessional of you Draco. I though your little... misfortunes would have knocked some sense into you. Never mix business and pleasure."

He fixed Harry with unconcealed desire. The young man was mortified, pinned by his stare. The four former enemies were standing rooted to the spot in front of Harry and the brunet was starting to freak out. Luckily, his body didn't betray him and he kept a defiant posture.

The Clan of "The Elders" in full force.

Draco and his playmates had come up with the name. The former Death Eaters had been enlisted into the Organization early on. Draco was already involved with Zabini and Nott when he had proposed the Lestranges join their little enterprise, so it would stay "in the family". Greyback and MacNair had naturally rallied to their group thereafter, glad to get back in the "mayhem business". Snape had related to Harry that, even though their association had been in their interest and Draco had largely proved his worthiness, the Elders yet had a hard time accepting subservience to a man they had seen in diapers.

The Elders stuck together. They had naturally taken the position of fieldwork team. Their modus operandi: intimidation by force. They were in charge of picking up the commissions and the takings, making sure the operations went smoothly. Their playing field: the streets they now knew like the back of their hands. They appreciated its roughness and its violence. Zabini and Nott, later joined by Flint, were taking care of "public relations": they found professional partners and set up enterprises. And of course, Draco supervised this little world. The system was working out nicely, at least according to Snape. Apparently, Draco hadn't filled him in about the latest dissensions.

The blonde was the last to reveal himself, opening the door wide to make his grand entrance. He had changed his clothes, more decent than the previous night. With his black front-pleat trousers, impeccable shirt and cufflinks with the initials "MF" engraved on them, he was still distinguished as ever.

MacNair turned to him and said aside, taunting, "Do you share?"

Draco frowned and scolded upon seeing Harry, "What are you doing here? I told you to get the fuck out!"

Greyback spoke up, "Draco, wait. Maybe we can have a little fun?"

Their attitude left Harry speechless. He felt unpleasantly like a piece of meat.

_May the best bidder win! _

They talked about him like he wasn't there, as if he hadn't a say, submissive and docile. And he hated it. He was here under McCarthy's orders; he didn't need another person to pull his strings. But Harry couldn't deny he didn't measure up to the five men. He felt trapped, caught in a nightmare, in the claws of the enemy.

Draco stepped in, "No, he has no business here!"

MacNair put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Listen," he suggested, in a condescending tone, "I think we all need a distraction. Why not let Greyback enjoy himself? Unless, of course, you've become too attached to the little one… Are you?"

Draco eyed MacNair with a fierce look, silently ordering him to take his hand off. MacNair lowered his arm but kept his malicious smile. And what could the blonde possibly retort to such insinuations? Harry knew what was coming.

Draco looked away and stepped back.

Greyback smiled then and slunk closer to Harry who backed into a corner of the room, knocking himself against the sideboard behind him. The vase sitting on the furniture swayed dangerously, the base spinning around with a maddening sound. The rhythm got quicker and quicker, mirroring Harry's shaky breathing. Then, just as the giant held out his hand to grab Harry's wrist, the noise stopped and in a swift move, the brunet hit the hairy hand away. Greyback showed no surprise, he just snarled. In the bat of an eyelash, he caught Harry by the nape, pressing on the bruises decorating his neck. Harry shuddered and, with both his hands, tried to unlock the large palm, but it was to no avail. Greyback put his other hand on the buffet, trapping Harry efficiently. The brunet was feeling so small and he could tell Greyback was enjoying his struggling, feeding on his fear. The brute chuckled and turned to the Lestranges.

"You seen this guys? Isn't he lovely! So helpless…" he mocked, grinning, "You could just eat him."

He bared his canine teeth and sank them into the base of the delicate neck. Harry cried out from the searing pain. No more razor teeth, a human bite, and Greyback had had to sink in hard to pierce the skin. In the middle of his cries, he wondered briefly if Greyback was acting like a blood-thirsty beast on account of his past condition, or if he had just been born a savage.  
Greyback raised his head with an ugly smile, a little blood on his teeth. He began laughing, along with Rodolphus and Rabastan who visibly appreciated the confrontation, one hand still firmly attached to Harry's neck. Harry, frantic, lowered his eyes and opened a drawer behind him, looking for a weapon, anything. His fingers fumbled and finally found an object. Harry could make out the shape of a pen. He tightened his hold, unscrewed the lid and, in a brutal move, stabbed it into the hairy hand that was resting on the furniture veneer. Greyback let out a howl and released his grip, gaping at his injured palm, the pen still impaled into his raised appendage. Harry was in shock too at the sight of this grotesque picture. Blood ran down Greyback's fingers, mirroring the trickle of blood on Harry's neck. The now enraged Greyback ripped the bloody pen out, threw it on the floor, and dealt Harry an impressive slap across the face. The clout sent Harry flying backwards and he barely caught on to the table to break his fall.

Draco's voice sliced through the air, "Stop!" His stony tone allowed no defiance.

Greyback kept his fists clenched, his lips trembling with fury, the urge to draw blood overwhelming. He looked at MacNair who shook 'no' with his head. For now Greyback loosened his fists and groaned. The Lestrange brothers averted their eyes, disappointed, and seemed to be getting bored already.

Harry was panting, his bottom lip open and Greyback's blood on his cheek like a hideous blush. He slowly straightened up, his face determined. He turned to Draco as if he were the one who would seal his fate. The latter looked at him disdainfully.

"You're playing with fire here. What word didn't you understand in 'sod off'?"

Harry looked at him and just said, "Pansy."

Draco's face morphed in a second. His hateful stare fell and anxiety filled his face.

"Pansy? What? Where is she?"

Harry tilted his head and took a tentative step towards the door, motioning for Draco to follow him. Greyback was still fuming, his eyes locked on him. He had to leave this room now. The blonde took no more than two seconds of reflection before walking onwards with Harry.

Behind them, MacNair's voice, "Malfoy, wait! We've not finished!"

But the two men crossed the threshold as though they didn't hear a thing. The door closed, swallowing MacNair's last call, "Malfoy!"

Harry huffed and wiped his cheek with his sleeve. He got the largest part of the blood off, but his cheek retained a red tint and his neck was sore. He didn't care at the moment, too focused on Draco. The blonde's face was tense, the urgency in his quick steps obvious.

On the way, Harry explained, "She didn't look good last night. I thought she was having a bad trip, but this morning, she nearly broke down… You know what's going on? Is she always like this?"

Harry looked at Draco even though he knew he wouldn't give an explanation. Draco kept his eyes straight ahead.

They finally arrived at the bathroom door. It took only a glance inside and Draco's face fell, shattered by the sight of Pansy on the floor. His grey eyes were half closed, full of… compassion? Harry was astonished by this Draco he had never seen before, benevolent and protective. Human. Draco rushed towards the girl.

"Eh, princess, what's going on?" he asked softly.

When she saw him, Pansy repeated his name over again and put her arms around his neck. They cuddled, Draco murmuring soothing words in her ear. Pansy was seemingly relaxing and Harry could see a smile on her lips. The couple were endearing and in the midst of this intimate scene, Harry felt he was in the way. He did a turnabout and closed the door behind him. He crouched down next to the wall behind the stairs, bent his legs against his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

Alone in the hall, he asked himself what he was doing in such a mess. In a few hours, he'd had a glimpse of the wonderful world of the Snakes, and that nest didn't inspire anything good to him. He was a mere pawn on the chessboard and his presence made the game more dangerous and uncertain. Snape and McCarthy didn't prepare him enough for this.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and rested his chin on his knees, his eyes tracing the black and white paving slabs on the floor. When he had imagined the Organization, he had seen it like a well rounded contest: a goal, a straight line to follow and a reward. How could he have believed that this would be simple, that Draco would fall into his arms like a lover would and share his secrets with him? He'd mistook him for a case from a file, a character easy to figure out, but Draco was more insightful than he thought, and strangely, he liked that. Maybe Draco wasn't the only one in need of a challenge…

The door to the bathroom opened and Pansy seemed more serene now. Her eyes were still foggy, but her features more relaxed. Draco supported her by the waist at first, then slowly unfolded his arm, making sure she could walk on her own. Pansy managed to stand, her back straight, and even flashed a smile to Harry.

Draco stared at him for a moment and Harry could fathom the "thank you" behind his eyes. Draco didn't linger though and said in a dismissive tone, "Well, Potter, I think it's time for you to leave us."

Harry pursed his bloodied lips.

_Ah, we were back to "Potter"._

He gazed at the floor. He knew all this hadn't changed a thing.

"Alright," he said, getting up. He looked at Draco but the latter was already on the other side of the hall, a phone next to him, signifying he had bid his farewell. Harry moved towards Pansy and simply said to her, "I hope you'll get better."

"You're leaving?" she answered with a frown.

"Yes, I think I'm not welcome here anymore, but take care of yourself."

"Can't you stay?"

Pansy looked insecure, fidgeting with her hands like she wanted to hold him back. And then, an idea sprung into Harry's head. Though it far from pleased him, he had no choice. He looked at Draco, still busy farther away, and suggested to Pansy in a low voice, as if he were sharing a secret with her, "Don't you worry, you know I'm the boy-who-lived… With me around, nothing bad can happen. I'm a survivor."

Pansy seemed to drink in each of his words. Harry bit his lips. He didn't like what he was doing, but he had no other option. And if he wanted to play the 'saviour' card, he might as well go all the way.

To intensify his effect, he brushed his hair from his forehead and revealed his famous scar to Pansy.

"You see, this mark is still a sign of blessing. Even now, it protects me."

Pansy looked sceptical but Harry supplied, "You know, they couldn't even put their little tracer on me. They tried, but it was pointless."

He turned and showed her his nape: no trace of implant.

"You see?"

Pansy opened her eyes wide.

"With me, you really have nothing to -"

Draco's authoritative voice cut him short, "You're still here? You want me to hold your hand to help find the way out?"

Harry answered, feigning defeat, "No, don't bother, I'm leaving." He waved at Pansy with sorrowful eyes and spun around when the girl suddenly grabbed his hand.

"No, stay."

Draco sighed, apparently used to her caprices. "Pansy, let him go."

She turned to Draco, pleading him with her eyes.

"No, Draco, he needs to stay to protect us."

Draco made himself firm and came close to her. "Pansy, this is ridiculous. Let this poor Potter go home." He gave a sly squint at Harry, a blond brow raised. "He has friends to get back to…"

But Pansy persisted, Harry's hand still in hers. "No, he stays!"

Draco was beginning to lose patience. He harshly removed Pansy's hand from Harry's and snapped back, "No Pansy, you won't win this time. Potter is leaving, and that's final!"

Then Pansy shouted, hysterical, "No, Draco, no, I don't want him to leave!"

Harry stepped in and said to Draco in a soft voice, "If Pansy needs me, I can take a few days off. I was just thinking -"

Draco interrupted him, exasperated, "Oh, but I'm sure you did. That's just what you wanted, right?"

Draco turned to Pansy and tried hard to contain himself, jaw tight.

"Pansy, there is no way Potter comes with us. So stop it now!"

But Pansy kept going, "No, no, he must stay!"

Draco had reached his breaking point. He violently took her arm and ground out between his teeth, "That's enough! I won't stand for another episode, pull yourself together!"

Pansy winced and staggered back. Blinded with anger, Draco hadn't realized he had squeezed her so hard. He gaped and removed his hand instantly as she stared at him with a betrayed look. Draco cleared his throat and looked at her apologetically. But he couldn't let his emotions interfere with the matter at hand. Gently this time, he told her, "It's Potter, not a lucky charm!" He vaguely gestured towards Harry, "He's nothing special anymore, really, he's like the rest of us! What could he possibly protect you from, tell me!... I'm here. And I'll tell Daphne to come and see you at the Villa."

Harry didn't react to the blonde's words. He considered it wiser not to intervene at this point. After all, the exchange seemed to be turning in his favour.

Pansy looked at the brunet and just whispered, "Harry."

Draco sneered but didn't let himself be deterred. He took Pansy's chin in his hands and turned her face towards his, peering her straight in the eye.

"I've always taken good care of you, huh?"

Pansy looked at him, attentive.

"Then, believe me when I tell you that Harry won't bring you anything good. You mustn't trust him, you hear me?"

Pansy responded in the same quite tone, "You're wrong. Harry must stay with us."

Harry was silently regarding them. He was amazed again by their relationship. Draco protected Pansy like a brother would, but more than that, he seemed devoted to the girl, as though he would do anything for her.

Draco paced and ran his hands down his weary face. " Pansy…" he grumbled. He shook his head and kept talking hollowly. "No way… No. Way."

He suddenly halted with a resolute air, as if he'd just made a decision, then he rushed to a concealed door and brutally slammed it. Harry stayed there, disconcerted, wondering if Pansy finally had got the better of him. But Draco came back a minute later, Crabbe and Goyle behind him. As soon as he came to face Harry, he instructed them, "Escort him outside. We've wasted enough time."

But Pansy threw herself at Harry. "No! No!"

Crabbe took a step forward, his stance threatening as he neared Harry. The brunet became tense. Then, Crabbe grabbed his elbow and began to pull him towards the exit, but Harry wrenched his arm free. He didn't need to be manhandled like that.

"Fine, I'll follow you," he groaned.

But of course, Pansy clung at him, unwavering. Goyle carefully took her by the shoulders and gently warned her, "Miss, please let him go."

But Pansy screamed louder and turned to Draco, eyes full of tears.

"I'll kill myself! I'll kill myself! We're all doomed without Harry anyway!"

She let out a heart-rending howl and, judging by the two bodyguards and Draco's reaction, Harry knew they didn't control anything. Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco inquiringly, waiting for a countermand, but he didn't utter a word.

Right then, they heard a door slamming. Snape was standing in top of the stairs, imposing. Every head turned to him. His descent was stately, his steps tapping on the stairway. Draco let out a breath, relieved to finally find some support.

At the foot of the stairs, his stance noble and calm, Snape enforced his rhythm without a word: his mere presence seemed to pacify everyone in the room. Even Pansy's cries ceased all of a sudden.

"What's all this racket?" he asked.

Draco flopped his arms in resignation.

"Pansy's throwing a tantrum. I don't know what's gotten into her, she refuses to let Potter leave. I can't make her see sense! And now she's using threats of suicide!" He said the last words with a fake mocking tone but his eyes betrayed the fear that threatened him at this mere thought.

Snape observed the scene in front of him.

"Well, if there's no way to reason with her, why don't you make a compromise? Take him with you for now and you will see to the rest later on," he said facing Draco, his eyes intent.

Draco didn't answer him. He just stayed there, pensive. He needed a little more persuasion, so Snape continued, "You know perfectly well that Potter is no threat…" He stressed each word, "… if you keep control of the situation. It won't be the first time you have to deal with an unexpected event, no?"

Draco looked at him and sighed, silently confirming his words. Snape went on, "You've always handled things wisely. I don't see how this would be any different. I must say I'm surprised you lost your temper so quickly. It does not suit you at all." A break, then he said with aplomb, "Act like the leader you are."

Draco unconsciously straightened, chin high. Snape's speech had hit the right buttons. Draco whirled round to face Pansy and Harry. "Ok Pansy," he said in a poised tone,"you've won. Potter can come with us."

A radiant smile appeared on the girl's face as she threw herself into his arms. Draco embraced her back but his cold eyes were fixed on Harry. Then Pansy threw herself at the brunet who answered her hug hesitantly. Draco motioned to Crabbe who pulled Pansy away from Harry and escorted her out of the hall, Goyle on his heels. Snape took advantage of this lapse in attention to send a brisk look at Harry, the only sign of connivance discernable between the two men.

Then, Snape said his formal goodbyes to Draco, "Well, if all is settled, I shall take my leave now."

Draco nodded and got closer to him to keep a semblance of privacy, "Severus, you know you're always welcome at the villa. We practically never see you there anymore." He added in a low but sincere voice, "I miss you."

Snape's features softened a brief moment.

"Who knows, I might get a grip on myself…" he said kindly. Draco smiled at him with a knowing look.

The brunet had followed their conversation at a distance. It was a strange thing to witness these two men, usually so harsh and guarded, speaking with such respect and care.

After a few seconds, Snape nodded as a goodbye and left without a glance to Harry.

Draco slightly stiffened after Snape's departure. He went to the far corner of the room to pick up a notebook near the phone and started skimming absently through it. Keeping his eyes on the book, he said, "Well, it seems I'll have to prolong my suffering and bear your presence a tad longer than expected."

Harry appeared sheepish. "I didn't plan… I mean…" he stuttered, "I must go home to get some of my things, but I can -"

"Goyle will take care of it," Draco said dryly.

Then he raised his nose from his papers to look straight at Harry with a mischievous air.

"Why? You need something particular maybe? Ask Crabbe, he will be glad to help you." His tone grew more and more derisive, "And if I can do anything for you, if you have any questions…"

Harry shook his head, realizing the stupidity of his demand. Of course, now he would no longer be a free agent. He had thought he could join the group under more peaceful circumstances… Well, he'd just have to use trickery to establish himself in their circle. Draco wouldn't let him get way with anything. Harry was going to be scrutinized and sifted through, no doubt about it.

"That's what I thought…" Draco concluded.

With that, he strutted to the door. When he came alongside Harry, he stopped at once, throwing him a dangerous glare as a warning sign.

"Don't claim success too soon. You'll leave this ship at the first opportunity. And believe me, I read you like an open book," he said without blinking.

His glower was intense, but Harry refused to lower his eyes, holding his gaze even though all his senses told him to surrender. They stayed like this for a few moments before Draco swirled around and left the room without a word. And Harry saw this as a victory.

Yes, as little as it was, it was already a victory.


	7. Welcome to the White Cottage

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs. And this is SLASH, so expect a lot of boy on boy love.

Beta: The amazing Avenalanon and MsLefay.

* * *

**CHAPTER 6 : WELCOME TO THE WHITE COTTAGE**

At the end of the evening, they arrived at Weybridge, in the suburbs of South-East London. The journey had not been long, but Harry had felt each hour pass. No one had spoken a word to him and in return, Harry had kept quiet. He was cast aside, and the discussions around him consisted of whispered words and suspicious glares. Pansy was the only one who approached him but Draco kept her at bay every time she tried to talk to Harry. So she contented herself with staring at him, seemingly fascinated.

At Weybridge, the luxurious private properties formed a quiet and upmarket district, and the White Cottage was no exception. They pulled over through an imposing iron gate, a video camera pointed on the street and a security agent inside, protecting the villa from any unwanted visitors. A wide tarred path led to an impressive villa.

Harry exited the car and took his time to admire the beautiful place, so different from the Manor. The architecture was modern and simple. The White Cottage's facade, as its name indicated, was pristine white. The villa had two houses each comprising of two stories. Access to the secondary house was at the end of an alley behind the main house and opening into an inner courtyard. This house was smaller but still grandiose. As soon as they were out of the car, MacNair and his team separated from Draco to settle in there, far from the rest of the group.

Harry tried to look calm and confident, but he was starting to feel a bit nervous after having a gander at his new residence. He knew that once inside, he would have to be careful, always on the alert. And as the entrance door opened, he knew a long and dangerous road was awaiting him and there was no turning back. He crossed the threshold after Pansy, followed closely by Crabbe. The lobby directly gave way to an impressive white-tiled open space encompassing a living room, a gleaming kitchen with a fully stocked bar, and a library area with a study. The interior was elegant but cosy, unlike the other cold and lifeless "classy" houses. The decorative objects were heterogeneous: African masks were hung on the walls while statuettes representing the Hindu God Shiva displayed on a buffet table next to the front door. Apparently, Draco had travelled a lot.

Three big black couches surrounding a coffee table strewn with newspapers and magazines formed a large square section in the middle of the room; and Harry could picture the gang sitting around here during their meetings, preparing their next operation and discussing the transactions. The library was half-hidden next to a large white staircase, a hidey-hole where one could isolate himself. In the kitchen were units with chocolate brown exteriors and a white quartz countertop, high leather seats, deep brown shelves and a substantial fridge. The oven looked as though it had never been used and Harry doubted that any of these guys actually cooked.

Flint crossed the room and opened one of the sliding French windows heading into the garden, while Zabini dropped down on one of the couches.

"Ha, I missed this !" he said, letting out a loud and contented sigh.

Nott went behind the counter to the left of the entrance and opened the fridge to get a fresh lager. He grabbed another one and showed it to Zabini who gave him a nod. He threw the can at his friend who nimbly caught it. When pulled the tab, the foam flew everywhere. Zabini craned his neck forward, forced to stick his mouth on the can, and swallowed all he could.

Draco watched the boys with a detached air and noted:

"There are some things I missed more than others." And between his teeth: " Real pigs..."

Pansy was so giddy she couldn't stand still, probably thrilled to come back to such a familiar place. She climbed the stairs next to the bar at a run and disappeared from view.

Draco approached Crabbe and Goyle who were discussing something. Two men Harry had never seen joined them. It looked like they were part of the security team.

Harry was rooted in front of the two little steps separating the living-room from the bar. He stepped down and pretended to take a tour of the room when, in fact he was barely cognizant of what he was seeing. All of his attention was instead focused on the discussion that was taking place behind him. He could make out a few snatches: "…watch out… careful… not a foot in the offices. I know everything is locked… don't want any surprises." Then other instructions concerning Pansy and "no contact with the guests. " Harry was under high surveillance it seemed, and acting as if he didn't hear a thing, he glanced through the books in the library and nonchalantly crossed the room again.

Draco, irritated by his pacing back-and-forth, barked, "Potter, Goyle will show you your room." A pause and he warned, "Don't get too cosy, you won't be staying long."

To Goyle: "I don't want him downstairs today, understood? "

Harry had no choice but to follow the bodyguard. On his way, he threw an equivocal smile at Draco who, in turn, glared daggers at him.

Once on the first floor, Goyle opened the second door to the right. The modestly sized room was charming, a great timber canopy bed with intricately carved frames and posts, a little wooden desk and chair, an enormous wardrobe and a dark mahogany chest of drawers. A little door at the side of the bed opened to reveal a small bathroom with a shower and sink. Harry had supposed they would give him a tiny and dusty room. If this was the worst room they could pick, he wondered what the other ones looked like. The door slammed behind him.

Harry was left on his own. He strolled around the bed, ran his hand over the silk cover, the material soft to the touch. He pulled open the white curtains and looked through the window. It led into the garden and an imposing swimming pool surrounded by a wooden terrace, two rows of deckchairs placed in a half-circle lay next to it. Flint was smoking a cigarette, his back to the wall. He glanced up at Harry, his cold grey eyes surveying/considering him. They both appraised each other for a long moment, pensive, Flint taking one or two puffs, and Harry observing him passively. After a while, Flint averted his eyes and Harry drew the curtains shut once more.

He turned around to the cupboard and opened it to discover his belongings already suspended on the hangers. He opened the chest drawer next to it and found his pyjamas and underwear. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. They must have had searched through his entire place. He wasn't surprised, but that didn't mean he liked their methods. In what state would he find his apartment when he got back?

He looked down the wardrobe again and found his travel bag: his papers, his agenda, his cell phone and his camera. The batteries had been removed. They must have gone through all his stuff, looking for uncompromising proof. Of course, everything had been controlled by McCarthy. They only discovered what the man wanted them to find: dates in different clubs of London, phone numbers of strangers he met with ridiculous nicknames, late parties' photos or staged clichés with anonymous people, an old dealer's number, contacts from the last years, during what he called his "dark days". Harry took care of erasing everything that could link him to the Weasleys or their research.

Harry heard voices in the living-room. Did they already have visitors? Curious, Harry unlatched the door. He found himself nose to nose with Crabbe, seated on a chair in the corridor. He started and the man got up, the movement accentuating his gigantic stature. His stance was intimidating but Harry kept an air of composure and asked demurely: "Hello. Uh, I'm a bit peckish. Is there anyway I could have access to the kitchen?"

Crabbe pressed on his ear.

"Crabbe to Peters. You can bring up a sandwich for chamber 2? Ok."

He sat down, looking at Harry as if he simply didn't belong. Harry got the message and closed the door with a small "thank you". He huffed and heavily slumped down on the bed. He looked at the ceiling. No cracks, no stain to observe. Just the void. 

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The next day, Harry was yet again in his room. Literally a prisoner of these walls, he began to despair when Crabbe knocked and entered to inform him he was expected downstairs.

Pansy threw herself at him as soon as he set his feet in the living room.

"Harry! I've been waiting for you for hours!"

Harry raised his brows commenting,"I wish I could have come sooner, but the ball and chain on my feet slowed me down."

He abruptly whirled around when Draco's voice made itself heard.

"Potter, playing the victim again?"

His voice came from the small library. Harry bent and could barely catch sight of Draco almost completely hidden behind the inner wall. Only the tip of his shoes poked out.

Pansy took Harry's hand and dragged him to the couch.

"Come on!"

Harry sat, his eyes still riveted to the library as if trying to pierce the wall. Pansy settled in front of him and watched him insatiably, with large eyes. She then took Harry's chin in her hand, which made him startle.

"Stay like this," she said.

Confused, Harry inspected her like he would a strange animal. Pansy just smiled at him and turned to a large sketchbook that lay on the table behind her. She took a pencil and gazed at him. Understanding her intentions, Harry gently took her wrist to stop her hand and shook his head.

"Pansy, I think you should choose another model."

As a way of answer, the girl took his chin again to immobilize him, and peered at him straight in the eye.

"If you move, I won't manage. Stay still okay?"

Harry started again, "No, I really don't think it's a good idea, you should… "

"Potter, let her do it, if that makes her happy," Draco interrupted him.

Harry turned his head toward the library: Draco's shoes were dangling in the corner. He let out a breath and watched Pansy, completely serious with the pencil in her hand.

"Fine… if you want."

Pansy's face lightened up and she began doodling on the paper, the sound of the pencil more and more ferocious. She seemed to know what she was doing, her gestures precise and assured, picking up her head every three seconds to look at Harry. The young man felt uncomfortable at first, avoiding her eyes, his cheeks red with embarrassment and his hands joined in his lap. But little by little, he relaxed, getting used to Pansy's meticulous examination, and got caught up in it, staying perfectly still. Time went by pleasantly. Meanwhile, Draco rose to go upstairs, a notebook in hand, and was soon back with a file under his arm, looking preoccupied. He took refuge in the library again, in the same position as before.

A few minutes later, Pansy put her pencil down on the table and let out a breath. She focused on Harry, a pretty smile on her lips, and handed him the sketch pad. Harry scratched a hand through his hair, hesitant, but Pansy kept insisting with her eyes, pushing the pad into his hand for him to take. He couldn't resist her so he finally grabbed it and rotated it around. He looked at the drawing and frowned. He didn't recognize himself. The sad-looking face, the heavy look... The boy on the paper appeared as a stranger. Harry studied the drawing as if he was discovering himself for the first time, trying to decipher what was behind the picture. The more he looked at it, the more it escaped him and this miserable mirror into his own psyche was becoming unbearable.

Confounded, he shut the cover of the sketch pad and gave it back to Pansy with a nervous hand. The girl looked at him oddly. Harry thought he had vexed her, but he wasn't expecting her question.

"You saw something? Me too, sometimes I can see past the faces." Harry stared at her, intrigued. Pansy had a faraway countenance."I don't know why, I can feel the darkness. I see what people hide, the pain, the anger. My parents… they opened my eyes."

She told this without any particular emotion, a simple statement. She set her eyes on Harry's.

"Something changed you too. The war maybe… It set something free inside. Your eyes are opened too."

Harry was scrutinizing her now, his eyes lost in hers, connected.

"I wouldn't say that..." he answered darkly.

He dared hope she couldn't really see inside of him: it was not pretty. It took a few blinks for Pansy's expression to change from gloomy to joyous, as if someone pressed a button. She jumped up and went for the radio on the bar. She turned it on and a pop song flew into the room. Eyes sparkling, she turned to Harry and exclaimed:

"I looove this song !"

Her childish expression made Harry laugh, her delight contagious. The diversion was welcomed, and Harry joined her behind the counter to pour himself a glass of water.

On the other side of the room, Draco, deep in thought, was unable to concentrate, the insistent song distracting him from his work.

"Will you please stop this?" he asked, forced to raise his voice.

Pansy didn't hear him, or didn't want to, and began singing along with the song.

Passingly irritated, Draco let a minute go by and revisited his work. But apparently, he read something he didn't like. Harry heard the rustling of papers, then a file roughly slammed down.

Draco exited his hiding place, eyes slit and tired. He looked toward the counter, Pansy in front of the radio, her back to him, and glared at Harry. The brunet, who was just watching him, rapidly averted his eyes, suddenly finding his glass of water fascinating. But the movement had not escaped Draco and seemed to irritate him more. Pansy was practically dancing against the bar, oblivious to Draco behind her. Harry was waiting for the outburst, but Draco just whirled around and disappeared into the courtyard, his mobile in hand.

Harry resumed his furtive observations, watching the blond pace on the lawn past the swimming-pool. Draco's lips were moving very quickly and pursed whenever he stopped talking. A disagreement was obviously taking place between him and the receiver. Despite the soundproofed windows, music and Pansy's singing, his shouts still pierced the room, indistinctly. Now, Draco left no respite to his interlocutor, speaking without a rest. He yelled one last time before furiously flipping the phone closed. He pushed open the sliding French window, stopped inside for a second, and met Harry's eyes. He then stepped forward, his chest puffed out, not the least bit calm.

"Can you stop this awful noise!" he stormed, but Pansy didn't comply, enraptured by the song. "Pansy, turn off this radio now!"

Reacting to the indifference of the girl, Draco lost his temper. He went to the worktop and unplugged the power cable with a sharp tug. Pansy snapped her head to Draco, looking bereft. The sudden interruption of the music cast a chill through the room and Harry instinctively stepped back.

The blonde shouted, taking his anger out on Pansy, "Are you deaf or what? I asked you a hundred times to turn off that damn racket! What's wrong with you?"

Pansy's face fell under his harsh tone and her lips started trembling. Her reaction told Harry that Draco's attitude was unusual.

Harry intervened in a low voice,"Draco, take it easy."

He was trying to cool things down, but the blonde didn't acknowledge him and kept on bellowing, "Can't you see I am trying to work, here? Yes, Pansy, that's right, people do, in fact have to work! Not all of us can fool around, singing and dancing all day long. Are you trying to drive me crazy?"

At this point, Pansy had collapsed in on herself. Draco had gone too far, and Harry felt the urge to protect the girl. He raised his voice this time, "She got the message, Draco! Would you cut it out?"

The blonde froze on the spot and threw him a murderous scowl.

"Pansy, would you leave us alone, please," he said not even looking at her.

The girl was stunned and without further ado, scurried away to her room in tears.

His eyes still pinning Harry, Draco resumed, "Potter, did you just give me an order?"

Harry remained stoic. Draco stole closer and started stalking in circles around him.

"No, because for a split second, I thought you asked me to shut it! Under my own roof! I think you're forgetting what your place is here."

Harry stared defiantly at him and tilted his head to the side, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Oh and what is my place exactly?"

Harry was looking for a fight, and Draco wasn't stupid, he knew what he was trying to do. But judging by the gleam in the blonde's eyes, Harry was sure that Draco was just waiting for this. Draco curled his lips in a vicious smile.

"I think we already established that Potter. You belong on the streets. "He paused for the dramatic effect and stated, "I know everything about your past, all your scams, your sordid affairs. See, I like to know who I'm dealing with. And I must say I wasn't that surprised by your police record. You've been involved with some interesting activities… But even back at Hogwarts, I knew you were scum. Your 'title' was nothing but a smokescreen and, now that destiny has decided to put us on equal footing, it is I who has come out on top..." He held up both of his arms as if he were addressing an assembly, "… and you've hit rock bottom. All is now as it should be."

Harry was seething, his eyes sparkling with rage, and he tightened his fists, ready to launch himself at the blonde. Oh, how he craved to wipe that idiotic grin off his face.

"I noted you associated yourself with Remus," Draco stated in an anecdotal way, passing his fingers over the back of one of the high chairs. He beheld absently his hand sliding over the wood.

Harry frowned at the reminder of his friend, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And slowly, Draco looked up at him and spat his poison, "Was he one of your regulars ?"

This did the trick: Harry jumped with a roar onto Draco, making him topple over under his weight. Harry grabbed the blonde wherever he could, pulling on his shirt, making the collar buttons fly off, and squeezed his neck with one hand. Draco kicked him in the groin, winding him, and made them roll over, the brunet landing flat on his back. Draco, his locks in disarray, eyes full of rage, hit Harry centre of the face, then another blow, and another. In a trance, Harry summoned all his energy and pushed back Draco's face, his hand on his chin, the blonde's face all scrunched up, his neck bared. Both boys were trembling now. Harry lost his grip and settled for the blond hair he pulled with all his strength. The blond wailed and his body slackened, granting Harry the upper hand. The brunet pushed Draco off him and made him fall backwards. The blonde collapsed onto his elbows while Harry got up on his knees. The brunet bent forward to hit Draco in the temple, but Draco was quicker: he took advantage of his position to throw his foot into Harry's stomach, propelling him on the floor.

Harry tumbled down the two steps separating the bar from the living-room. He took a few breaths to recover, giving time for Draco to get back on his feet. Once he faced Harry, he sent him a kick to the ribs. Harry doubled over and staggered back to escape him but Draco kept booting him wildly. With a sudden move, Harry caught Draco's foot, throwing him off balance. The blonde started to fall but managed to catch himself at the last moment on the back of the couch. Harry rose and launched at him again, brutally seizing his wrist, both rolling above and over the couch. They ended up on the cushions, groaning, scratching, tearing and beating everywhere. The fight was wild and clumsy.

They barely noticed when a hand grabbed each of them by the shoulders. Harry was propelled upwards, next to the couch, Goyle's hand on his shoulder; but his body was still high on adrenaline, refusing to submit, and he moved back on the attack. Goyle's other hand came around his waist to secure him firmly. Harry was wiggling madly but he tired quickly, unable to break Goyle's hold. Draco was in a similar state but he settled almost immediately. He shoved Crabbe's hand off him and took a few steps back to pull himself together.

The two young men were standing on opposite sides of the room, utterly ragged, marks on their arms, hair dishevelled and faces red and puffy. Draco's shirt-tail was out of his pants, collar wide open, and Harry's tee-shirt collar was ripped. Harry grimaced, closing his swollen eye and Draco massaged his wrist, grinding his teeth. They threw heated eyes at each other, heaving loudly.

Draco put his collar straight with a shrug to tidy himself up, but the missing buttons didn't help. Turning his head towards the windows, he reassured Crabbe and Goyle.

"It's okay, it's okay." He cleared his throat, still gathering himself, and commanded in a disdainful voice, "Take him back to his quarters, I don't want to see him again before tomorrow morning."

Draco was clearly avoiding any eye contact with Harry. The brunet knew he had no say in this. He removed Goyle's hand with a hard jerk, and without a word, climbed up the stairs. The episode was over. 

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Following their altercation, Harry and Draco tried to keep their distance. Although their interactions hadn't changed much since Harry's first days in the house, Draco now took care never to speak directly to Harry. The latter was often confined to his room, and he suspected Draco left him there for the simple pleasure of tormenting him. Everything happened out of his sight, and Harry didn't know how to handle this new situation. Even when he was authorized to join them downstairs for the meals, he felt he was on slippery ground, Draco allowing no remark from him.

Harry might have been sidelined but he put this exclusion to good use, sharpening his sense of observation, and quietly analyzing the dynamic of the group whenever he was around. Draco was distant with his team. Whereas a frank camaraderie united Zabini, Nott and Flint, Draco kept his reserve, barely laughing at their jokes and often refusing to join them on their nights out. He was shutting himself out. As for MacNair and his jolly fellows, Harry had yet to see them in the Cottage. Since he had arrived, they hadn't set foot in the main house. Were they out on a mission or did they stay away from the prying eyes in their own quarters? Maybe they had well marked territories. This was still to be defined. The rules of the residence were so unclear to Harry.

Draco was often alone, in a corner of the house. He stayed like this for hours, just gathering his thoughts. On forced quarantine, Harry's situation was quite similar to his, and it was not rare that both men found themselves silently isolated in a corner of the living-room, each on his own side, even though the team was in the room. Sometimes, Draco stared at him openly, eyes piercing, as he found more interest in appraising Harry than in joining the conversations around. Harry withstood his inspection but Draco always overstepped the limits, his eyes so penetrating that he imparted discomfort. Harry didn't understand what it meant. Was it intimidation or simple observation: something else was in play, but he couldn't see what.

Four days after their fight, Harry found Draco seated at the edge of the heated swimming-pool, the legs of his trousers rolled up to his knees, calves immersed in the water. It was night. The LED illuminations at the bottom of the pool and the misty fog all around created a lunar ambiance, the water mirroring at its edge and little light rays twinkling on the surface. Draco was wiggling his legs in the water, making a soothing to-and-fro sound with each of his movements, the water lapping against the side. Harry stayed behind him by the window, observing the reflection of the misty light on the blond hair, the laid back posture. He had the feeling he was catching a rare image, to witness one of Draco's hidden faces.

The blonde's head suddenly jerked to the side in a little start. Without looking at Harry, he said, "Rules, Potter. I think I need to clear some things up: you are forbidden to leave your quarters without the permission of one of the security guys. Understood?"

Harry quipped in a trice, "I'm not sure, could you repeat that?"

Draco turned to Harry, his back to the light, and his eyes shone with fury on his dark face.

"Potter, you're on an ejection seat. Push me even just a bit, and no matter what Pansy wants, I'll kick your arse out, is that clear?"

Harry wasn't discouraged, quite the contrary in fact. He wanted to break Draco's defenses, so he pushed his luck.

"Irritable, much?" he smirked, tilting his head aside, with a puppy face.

Draco barely reacted, murmuring a "I think I preferred when you didn't talk at all." And louder: "Get the fuck out now. I'll have a little conversation with Crabbe et Goyle."

Harry answered as quick as a flash, "Crabbe is right at my heels, watching us. Don't fret yourself, you trained your watchdogs well."

"Well, they should know you're not authorized to come and disturb me when I'm alone."

Harry, a bit nonplussed by his elusive attitude, provoked him again, searching for a reaction.

"Why Draco, what are you afraid of?" His voice filled with sarcasm, "This little 'nice' treatment here, what is it? A paranoia crisis?"

Draco viewed him again with clear eyes.

"Knock it off Potter, I know what you're doing, but you blew it. Now we're stuck together for Pansy's sake, but it's a matter of a few days before her bearings return, and then you can crawl back to the hole you came from. Just stop all this pretence, okay? Save you and me this pain."

He gazed down, his eyes lost again in the motion of his legs in the water.

Harry was getting impatient. He came forward, standing just at Draco's side so that he could see his face, and yelled, "But how many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a fucking spy!"

Draco shrugged. "If you want to play it like that…"

"Listen, this is getting ridiculous, why would I do such a thing? I… I don't understand what's going on inside your head."

Draco turned his eyes back to Harry and said very quietly :

"I know the method of Division 8, I know how they work. You're not the first one. I've already seen their agents in action. They come to you, all innocent, they worm their way in your life, they win your trust…" His voice turned bitter: "… to finally stab you in the back."

Draco had all Harry's attention then, and Snape's words came back to his memory:

_"Someone betrayed him, someone who was close to him, intimate even."_

Harry ran a hand through his hair. He knew he had to be persuasive. He allowed the agitation to seep into his voice, "Yes, but I have nothing to do with them! I know those scavengers. In the interest of full disclosure, Remus was trapped by the division as well. "He continued, his air fierce, "So you see, I have as much, if not more reason to hate them than you do."

He slowly sat on the edge next to Draco, his legs folded so they wouldn't touch the water. The blonde was listening to him attentively. Harry put his hands on the sode of the pool and spat with a bitter laugh, "Those bastards decided that Remus was in over his head, one of too many "risky" cases. You should have seen him then... He was so skinny, emaciated..." His eyes were filled with bitter memory. "He could barely stand up. Some fucking threat..."

He scratched his nose and went on in a factual tone, "He'd been denounced by some of his muggle friends." He shook his head, "I never understood why Division 8 was so interested in the former werewolves. And then I made contact with someone working in their detention center, someone who had access to their files. In fact, they had everything all wrong." Harry gestured with his arms to illustrate what he was saying. "They believe that, for us, the magic is exterior, something we just… tap into, but that for the werewolves, the magic comes from inside, from within their blood and flesh… When they realized that very few werewolves survived the shockwave, it just confirmed their hypothesis! It just made them more precious. They began to segregate the ones they caught, and then they built their bunkers… "

Harry's shoulders were tense and he found that he was rocking himself to and fro, in a soothing rhythm.

"Once the werewolves were at their mercy, those bastards conducted tests on them, using them as guinea pigs!"

He tried to contain his rage, teeth clenched and eyes bright, remembering the scars of torture he had witnessed on his friend, his body broken.

"Remus was part of the first imprisonment wave."

Harry took a break and looked away slightly. He tried to keep the same emotion in his voice when he announced, "They used him to the core. He died in their center three weeks ago. My contact disappeared a few days later. I guess they got rid of him too."

Draco stared at him carefully, taking his words in and said, "I got the report in hand, but I didn't know he had passed."

Harry summoned tears to his eyes. He didn't have to go very far to find them. Eyes wet, he maintained a tone of confession, "That's why I had to get in touch with you. I couldn't do it without Remus. I can't go on alone…"

He buried his face in his hands, completely huddled up. Draco watched him a long moment, studying him as if trying to take a decision, then he said, "Greyback's been through it too, but once with us, he was untouchable."

He looked down to the water, eyes staring wide open as if in standby mode, and with a sad voice,  
"I wish I could have done something for our people… I wish I could have helped…" He blinked his eyes then, and added on a more objective note: "… but even with my contacts, I don't have much leeway as far as Division 8 is concerned. A few years ago maybe, but now, the game has become too risky. I've been in their sights for quite some time now."

Harry was surprised by Draco's words and turned his head back towards him, eyes shiny.

"I didn't know you to be this altruistic."

"Not altruistic. Vindictive, yes... Consistent too. My despise for muggles is nothing new, you know that. Everything that happened just confirmed my convictions. These last six years have been revealing, even you can't deny it."

Harry lowered his eyes. He had to admit that the climate of hatred that hit them had shaken his certitudes. The denunciations, the anti-wizard groups, he would never have expected such a reaction from the muggles. Harry had become bitter and suspicious, but, at the same time, he didn't want to let himself be invaded by a similar hatred.

Draco kept on, "I'm only defending my beliefs, and our people."

Harry smiled to that and watched the blond with amusement.

"You're trying to be the new saviour?"

Draco swept this idea aside with a sneer, "There's only one Harry Potter."

Unsettled by the declaration, Harry stared deep into Draco's eyes. Both looked at each other in a peaceful silence, their hands close to one another on the wooden floor, no discomfort between the two young men. The lights made the moment surreal, patches of their skin glowing in the dark and making them different for a moment. It was like they were discovering each other faces. The soft sound of the water wrapped around them, the moment intimate.

"Uh, am I interrupting something ?"

Draco and Harry glanced back at once with a puzzled look: Zabini was leaning on the French window and looking at them, his arms crossed and his smile suggestive. He kept teasing them, pretending to go back in the house,

"Because if I am, I can come back later…"

Draco lifted his legs out of the water, feet wet, and came to the window, now at the same height as his friend.

"Zabini," he said warningly, eyes narrowed.

"Really, all this sexual tension here, it's too much for my little heart," answered his friend mockingly, his hand on the chest.

Harry blushed at those unexpected words. Draco, offended, retorted loudly, "Zabini, would you like me to move you to Greyback's room? One more word and it's an immediate transfer."

Zabini continued jokingly, as teasing as possible, "Oh, Draco, you know I love manly men, but the hair on the back is really not my thing…"

Draco negligently waved his hand as if to push him away.

"I've heard enough for today."

He dried his feet with a towel lying on one of the deckchairs and rolled the leg of his pants back in place. He squinted at his sidekick with a authoritative air and said, "Tomorrow, 9 :00 a.m., Zabini."

He glanced back at Harry, suddenly very cold, "Crabbe will fetch you tomorrow as usual. And make sure you don't dawdle all night, understood?"

The brunet got up in turn and nodded, back into the role of the prisoner on probation. The truce couldn't last for long.

Inside, Draco shared a few words with Crabbe who eyed Harry from a distance before ascending the stairs. Draco raised his voice to Zabini : "Keep an eye on him," and then left the room.

Zabini headed to the bar. Harry didn't know if he should join him or not, so he simply stayed aside. Zabini opened one of the shelves and removed a bottle of scotch. He unscrewed the cap and dropped it on the table. The noise attracted Harry's attention. He turned his head to Zabini, waiting for some signal. Then, Zabini took two glasses and set them atop the table. Harry came closer, surveying the tiled floor, trying to touch the lines with each step. He didn't feel comfortable alone with the dark-skinned man. The truth was, Zabini looked like a buffoon, always joking with Nott, making crude comments, but Harry knew better. The man was no fool, it was just a façade. Harry just didn't know what to expect from him. Zabini considered him, amused.

"So, what's the story ?"

Harry raised his brows. "What ?"

Zabini leisurely poured the alcohol in both glasses and watched him. "What're you doing here?"

Harry gave him an acerbic laugh. "You're not going to start on me too… "

Zabini answered with an equal tone, "I'm not talking about your presence here, I'm talking about your little interaction with Draco."

"I don't know what you're talking about, we were just talking…"

Zabini nodded, not convinced. "Hm hm, if you say so."

Zabini pushed Harry's glass to his side of the table and took a gulp of his own. Harry stood closer and watched Zabini downing his shot, trying to gauge the man. What was he getting at? Nothing had happened after all.

Zabini put his tumbler down and sat behind the counter, inviting Harry to do the same.

"You're here for what… one week? And Draco is already baring his soul to you."

Harry balked. "What are you talking about? He didn't bare a thing. We were just having a conversation..." he continued defensively.

Twisting his beverage right and left in his hand, Zabini quietly told him:

"When Draco isolates himself, it's best everyone leaves him alone. Believe me, I'm talking from experience here. He just has these times when he needs to stay alone, to collect himself… He distances himself more and more from us." He brought his face closer to Harry's, his arms on the table, eyes intent. "And you, you come here with your big green eyes and your innocent smile, and he melts like snow under the sun."

Harry took his drink and shifted on his seat, brows furrowed.

"You're deluded, Draco is the most distant, the coldest man I've ever met! He hasn't said a word to me for days. He's treated me like a prisoner since the beginning and has certainly made it clear that I am not welcome here."

Zabini's face was completely serious now.

"You don't get it: Draco never confides in anyone, hasn't for a long time… But you, he talked to you… really talked."

Harry searched Zabini's face, thinking about what he was implying. Had he overcome an obstacle without even realizing it?

"I don't know how you did it, but he opened up to you. So I can only encourage you to keep doing…whatever you're doing," Zabini stared at his drink, looking preoccupied. "Draco needs help. The others might not care, but I do. He's my friend. And he needs someone. Even if it's you."

With this, he swallowed his scotch in one gulp and pushed away from the bar. He bent close to Harry's ear and whispered his final sentiments, darkly, "But don't you dare hurt him, or else I'll hunt you down to the end of the earth and kill you."

The threat was less than monumental, though Harry realized the truth behind his words. Zabini straightened up, tilted his head toward the staircase and asked him with a beaming smile:

"Shall I walk you back to your room?"

Lost in thought, Harry took a pause before putting his glass down in the sink and following him. Crabbe was already posted in the corridor next to his door. Zabini kept walking, leaving Harry alone.

Once the door of his room opened, Harry caught sight of a silhouette on his bed: Pansy. The girl was lying on top of the covers, asleep. Harry sighed, turned on the bathroom light, threw on an old tee-shirt and carefully joined the girl on the bed, trying not to weigh on the mattress. He angled towards her, eyeing the contours of her face in the dark room. She was lying on her back, her hands rested on her belly and her legs folded to the side, her body strangely twisted.

Harry settled down on his back and shifted his head to watch the rays of light piercing through the blinds from the terrace outside. He recalled Draco's silhouette at the edge of the pool, his blond hair stark before the clear blue water.

_"There's only one Harry Potter."_

Harry smiled in the translucent glow, the light tracing thin stripes on his face. He stayed like this, listening to Pansy's soft breathing, eyes lost in the blond rays filtering in through the blinds. 


	8. Cat and Mouse

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon and MsLefay.

* * *

**CHAPTER 7 : CAT AND MOUSE**

**May 15, 2004**

For the fourth morning in a row, Harry found himself confined in his room. As always, he peeped out the window, trying to see what was happening, but no one was outside and the windows' curtains were tightly closed. They had to have visitors. Something was up, something big, he was sure of it.

Suddenly the door opened, and Pansy came in, looking preoccupied. Harry didn't expect her visit so soon. Usually, she slipped in to his room in the early afternoon. It became a regular rendezvous. They passed most of their time in Harry's room, even when he was invited downstairs. The climate had become so hostile lately that Pansy felt more comfortable up here. She joined Draco in the evenings, when the blonde was calmer. Sometimes, Harry had to convince her to go back to the living-room, eager for information, but for now, luck was not on his side. An atmosphere of secrecy had enveloped the house and nothing leaked out. Draco was back with the cold blooded boss act and Harry felt so inefficient.

Worried, he asked Pansy :

"Is everything okay ?"

"I don't know, I wanted to see Draco, but I heard shouting downstairs. I don't know what's going on."

"Crabbe is still behind the door ?"

She nodded.

No way to see what happened then.

"Ok." He caught her hand to reassure her. "Listen, I'm sure it's just a little discord… You know what they were talking about?"

She shook her head. "No, Draco never lets me attend their meetings. And to be honest, I don't want to get involved. I'm just worried. Draco has never looked so anxious."

Well, it confirmed Harry's suspicions. Something was afoot.

"I just want him to be safe. You'll protect him, won't you ?"

The naivety in Pansy's eyes, her blind trust, gave him a little heartache and he could do nothing but answer: "Yes, I promise," even though he knew that whatever might ensue, he would be the end of Draco.

Pansy sat on the bed, her hand in his, and leaned close to him. Harry rested his chin on Pansy's head and comforted her like that for a while. Then, he asked her in an absent-minded tone,

"I have the impression that a lot of visitors are coming by lately..."

"Hm, yeah, it's crazy," she mumbled below him. "Draco's on the edge. He doesn't like new people…"

"I understand." Then he tried and bluffed, "I saw someone in the courtyard earlier. He looked awkward…. I've never seen him before."

His eyes slid aside, hesitant, and at this instance, Harry was glad the girl couldn't see his face. He tried to sound detached, "You know who it was ?"

Pansy lifted her head up and turned slowly toward him, suddenly very lucid. She narrowed her eyes and stared at him as if he were a stranger. Harry held his breath. This Pansy was so different from the one he had seen till now.

"Why are you asking me this ?" she said suspiciously.

Her eyes stayed pinned on him, implacable, and he expected her to shout "Off with his head !" at any moment. Her look was so unfamiliar.

He did his best to keep nonchalant, feigning innocence.

"I'm worried, just as you are, Pansy. I like it very much here, with you and Draco, and I don't want anything to happen that might break us apart."

A dreadful silence followed. Pansy seemed to ponder this, then her face softened and she rested her head back on Harry's shoulder.

"No, nothing will break us apart."

Here it was again, the familiar and gentle face of his Pansy. He wrapped his arm around her, but this darker side of Pansy chilled him to the bone and he had a hard time getting his serenity back. Pansy shuddered and cuddled up against him. He closed his eyes, vanquished by his fragility and murmured :

"It's going to be fine... It's going to be fine. " 

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

"Julia Roberts"

"Richard Gere"

"Hmm, George Clooney"

"Clive Owen"

"Oliver Twist."

Harry chuckled."He's not an actor."

Pansy frowned. "Yes, I saw him on TV. His new movie will be released soon."

Harry laughed harder. Playing with Pansy was always entertaining.

"Ah I'm afraid it's not possible. It's a Dickens character…" Pansy didn't seem enlightened." A fictional character…"

She looked unconvinced.

"Fine… Uh, then… Owen Milson."

"Wilson" corrected Harry.

"Yes, that's what I said!" she cried.

Harry lifted his hands, in a gesture of surrender.

"Okay, okay. I say... Winona Ryder."

Pansy frowned once more, "Oh no! You can't make up names !"

"I'm not, she's an actress!" Faced with Pansy's annoyed air, he insisted, a smile on his lips : "It's true."

"Hmm… I want a proof. Now."

Harry spread his arms, helpless :

"How…"

Then, a raucous noise resounded and Harry and Pansy started at the same time. Voices rose in the hall. Pansy moved next to the bed post to get the farthest away from the door. She was frantic. Harry bolted to the door to get out but Crabbe jumped up in front of him, blocking his field of vision.

"Go back inside."

Harry kept moving forward, looking for an opening, and stretched his arm as if he were about to jump over the bodyguard.

"What ? But you heard too, something's wrong !"

With a professional attitude, Crabbe tried to reassure him, staring him in the eye, his voice calm and firm:

"Everything's under control. It's none of your business. Go back inside."

Harry ran his tongue along his lips, itching to see what was going on, but since he could find no way past his minder, he gave up with a sigh. He closed the door and headed straight for the window. Pansy was curled up in a ball on the bed, her head buried in her arms.

Harry looked outside: someone was by the window overlooking the terrace but he could only see his back. The person was talking to someone inside, gesticulating. A disagreement it seemed. Then, the person turned around and brutally slammed the window behind him. MacNair.

The door opened again and, little to his surprise, the Lestrange brothers followed the same path, seeming furious. Harry watched them retreat to their building, their backs disappearing down the alley. He waited another few minutes, but Greyback didn't come out.

Another fight. Things were not getting any better.

Harry finally let the curtain fall and went to sit next to Pansy, still folded up on herself. He rubbed her back in a soothing gesture and turned his eyes towards the window.

One hour later, Crabbe came knocking at the door and informed them they could come downstairs. Pansy had fallen asleep in Harry's arms, so he softly woke her up and she followed him with tiny steps. Once in the living room, the tension was still palpable. Zabini, usually so voluble, was silently standing, his elbows on the counter, a drink in his hand. Nott was leaning on the buffet, arms crossed and Flint was on the couch in front of him, his look sullen. Draco was the only one moving : he was flipping his notebook on the opposite couch. Pansy immediately made a move to sit next to him and leaned against his shoulder. He glanced up at her and gave a tense smile.

"Pansy."

"You alright ?" she whispered to his ear.

He gently petted her head and viewed her kindly.

"Yes princess, everything's fine."

At this point, Nott sighed heavily and straightened up to join Zabini. Harry noticed that Draco was following Nott with his eyes as he kept stroking Pansy' hair with his hand. Then, Draco looked at Harry, a hint of hostility in his eyes.

Harry felt as though he were simply in the way, as usual. Since his arrival, his less than enthusiastic hosts hadn't made things easy for him.

He was very nearly invisible.

On darker days, he tried to blend into the decor, doing his best to make himself forgotten. In those moments, it was his choice. But hostility like this? No, this was a feeling he hadn't been subjected to since the Dursleys.

He went to sit on one of the high stools at the bar, behind the counter, away from Nott and Zabini.

Do not disturb.

Both men finally settled on the couch to take a drink, their backs to the courtyard.

Draco was talking to Pansy, bent over her - always so instinctually protective - and asked her to tell him about her morning. Pansy talked about the games with Harry, and Draco didn't comment, simply nodding now and then. Harry couldn't see his face anymore, but it was obvious Draco didn't appreciate Pansy's attachment to him. He was probably afraid that Harry would manipulate her or take her away from him.

From his position at the bar, Harry spotted a silhouette coming up the alley. MacNair again.

Rabastan was with him and was trying to hold him back by the arm, but MacNair kept walking. Harry had a head start from the others: while nobody else marked their imminent arrival, he had time to contemplate this new situation. He tensed on his chair and observed the conflict between the two men in the courtyard and the contained rage of MacNair. He didn't warn Draco or the others, they would have sent him right back to his room. The only one in a location to spot the men was Flint. It would have taken a minute shift of his head.

Flint stayed still.

Harry had just a few seconds to react. He reached the French window, slinking, striving not to appear too hurried or contrived, and sat not far from the door, yet perfectly out of sight. One of the security guards was posted in the alley and surveyed him in the distance. Harry kept still. MacNair eyed him as he approached the doors, but didn't react, far too angry to bother. Entering the house, they left the door half-open, as Harry had hoped they might. The brunet stayed alert, isolated and without any visual contact in the room. He felt vulnerable.

A real amateur trick. As if Draco wouldn't notice the maneuver.

_What an idiot ! But what an idiot !_

He heard MacNair's heavy steps. Then, Draco's voice:

"McNair, if you came to discuss what happened, I have nothing to add."

But MacNair jumped the gun and hit hard, allowing Draco no time to protest:

"Is that so, and according to whom ? You're not the only one making decisions!"

Harry was expecting someone to call his name, to come pick him up, but nothing came. He let out his breath. It was too good to be true ! This fight at point-blank had probably taken Draco by surprise, and he hadn't inquired about his whereabouts. The fact that Harry was out of everyone's sight had allowed him to fly under the radar. Apparently, Pansy hadn't moved from the room either.

"As you know, we are not operating in a democracy, here. We might be a team, but only one person has the final say and that person is me."

"Even if you're acting like a twat ? Cause I don't know if you noticed, but Addams supplies about twenty clubs, half of them in London, you realize the market that represents?"

"Don't bother recounting your pitch again. I don't give a shit about what your man can bring us. I. Do. Not. Take. To. That. Guy." Draco enounced, accentuating his words. "Do you understand? I trust my instinct and it tells me that he will bring us nothing but trouble. He has no ethics! He is a simpleton and an opportunist. He will forget about us as soon as a better offer comes along."

"So we're supposed to acquiesce on just a little intuition. What are you going to do next, consult the cards? Draco ! We bet on the winning numbers, and with this man, it's a guaranteed jackpot!"

Draco asked in a strained voice, "Pansy, would you please join Harry upstairs?"

Harry froze, stricken with panic.

"Guys, would you leave us for a bit?"

Footsteps. Someone, Flint it appeared, resisted, "This concerns us too !" but Draco immediately dismissed him.

Harry reasoned with himself: there was nothing to say that Pansy would make a fuss if Harry wasn't in his room. The mission had priority, and he finally had the opportunity to fish out some information.

Draco's voice turned more somber than before, "I forbid you to defy my authority in front of my team."

McNair snickered. "'Your team ?' Do you know they all agree with me on this? And until now, I thought I was part of the team too. Are you trying to tell me something?"

Draco's tone was sharp and direct: "Take it as you wish. I am simply warning you to be very careful. Whatever impression it is that you may have had, we do not share power, here. I am the only decision maker."

MacNair didn't set his face against him, instead, he pleaded his cause:

"Draco, Fuck ! We need to be up to the mark, we can't back out! Everyone's waiting to pounce since you put our last two dealers offside. The 30th will come before we know it, and if we're not up to it, Ellis will be only too pleased to pull the rug from under our feet."

Harry registered the names : Adams. Ellis. He couldn't get much out of it for now.

"I have another candidate, okay? I am meeting with him next week. I have the situation well in hand."

"Oh yeah, who ?"

A silence.

"You shouldn't concern yourself with the details, that is my job. Let me handle my business, I know what I'm doing."

Another silence, footsteps, then the entrance door slammed shut. McNair's exit.

Harry heard the French window slide. His body became rigid but he kept an impassive face. Draco caught sight of him almost instantly. He pushed Harry's feet with the tip of his shoe and the brunet lifted his head. Draco was considering him from above and Harry couldn't fathom his intentions. He felt so small suddenly, but he stayed put.

Draco broke the silence, "Still lurking ?"

"I was waiting for you."

Draco watched him with the same blank expression.

"You were waiting for me."

Draco looked away as if trying to plan his next action, but Harry didn't give him any time to think. "Why are you avoiding me ?" he asked.

Draco laughed at that and Harry wondered if his act was that obvious.

"You know why."

Harry stood up and came close to him. Watching him approach, Draco straightened up, almost a head taller than Harry, no doubt trying to intimidate him.

Harry didn't back up. On the contrary, he dug his heels in and said, "I thought you'd have more faith in me."

"Faith ? You're nothing like a hero anymore. Am I wrong?"

Harry gave him his most honest look.

"Perhaps not in the eyes of the world... but I can save you."

Draco burst into laughter.

"Save me ? From who ? From what ?... God's wrath? Eternal damnation?"

Eyes intent, Harry lifted his brows and answered,

"You."

Draco swallowed back his smile and clamped his tongue between his teeth before retorting :

"Potter, I don't need your help. I'm fine as I am, thank you." He put on a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm living the dream!" he said a bit too emphatically.

Draco turned his head away and Harry used this distraction to seize his hand. Draco flinched and Harry was sure he would be rejected, but the blonde didn't push him away, nor did he make an attempt to recoil. Emboldened, Harry gathered his courage and closed the distance between them. They stayed just a breath from each other, speechless, when Draco stated without preamble:

"There will be a party tonight. I'd like you to be my guest."

Harry stared deep in his eyes, trying to find the catch. When he couldn't, he nodded.

An invitation to a party, a real one this time. A first date. 

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The party took place in a large duplex with tacky and kitsch decorations. The acid colored walls were covered with modern art paintings, Warhol reproductions, and there were retro objects scattered about the place. The guests had come en masse and the pop art bungalow was crowded. Music filled the space, but only a few were dancing. The people were all well groomed, sophisticated but casual. Real bourgeois bohemians.

Draco wormed his way through the compact pack of guests, his loyal companions at his side. The Elders had bailed, surely suffering the effects of the earlier argument. Pansy had quietly stayed at the cottage. Draco rarely let her accompany him to these sorts of parties, especially after the debacle in Dartmouth. Harry stayed behind the group, observing. Numerous handshakes and hugs were exchanged.

After a few moments, a thin man with long, ash blond hair approached Draco, arms open, a large smile pasted on his face.

"Draco! What a pleasant surprise! I had heard you were overbooked."

Then he pulled Draco into a wobbly embrace. The blonde wasn't comfortable with this display, if the tension in his stance was anything to go by, though he put on an appropriate smile.

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

"Hmm, I rather say you came to assess the competition."

"Ellis, you know I never mix pleasure and work. I needed a distraction, that's all."

Ellis. This was the man who threatened their business.

The men pursued a discussion full of unspoken words and innuendos. Harry felt they had a history, surely they were old enemies. They were assessing each other, guarded and perfectly in control. One of them wasn't going to make it through the game. Of that he was sure.

The revelry was in full swing. Draco and the gang were in their element, surrounded with delicious temptations of every variety. It was clear that Harry was not included in their circle and was simply hanging around.

He wondered why Draco had invited him to the bash. He hadn't been granted so much as one look since they'd left the cottage. Harry finally headed to the bar and asked for a glass of champagne. Seated there, he gave the distinct impression that he was miserably alone, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I can't say that I remember you... I wouldn't forget such a … lovely vision." The tone was light and bubbly.

Harry turned to see Ellis, a hand on the bar, his eyes lascivious and unabashed.

"This is a private party, you know. So you just saw the lights and tumbled in?"

Harry straightened up, trying to appear composed. He was thinking of the best tactic. Apparently, Ellis hadn't made the connection between he and Draco. Not very surprising, they looked like strangers. Harry quickly scanned the people clustered around the room and spotted a tipsy man looking in his direction. Harry waved at him with a big smile on his face. The man answered his hello, his hand a bit hesitant.

"I'm with him."

"Miles ? Really ?"

Ellis didn't sound convinced, so Harry carried on with aplomb, "Hm, we met earlier today. I didn't plan anything for tonight. I'm new in town you see, so I felt a bit lonely." He shrugged. "And he told me it wouldn't be a problem. But if it's not the case, I should just… "

Puppy dog eyes in place, he made a movement to hop down of his seat but Ellis stopped him. Maybe he swallowed his story, maybe not. It didn't matter, Ellis seemed amused. The man held out his hand.

"Ellis, your humble host."

"Harry Potter."

Harry shook his hand and Ellis held it longer than necessary.

"You should know Miles is not good in the sack. Really, you could do so much better…"

After getting his hand back, Harry answered :

"I've spotted someone else, but I think he's out of my league."

"Oh, angel, don't underestimate yourself," said Ellis in his honeyed voice. "Who's the lucky chap?"

Harry spotted him right away on a canary yellow sofa, besides a man wearing a flashy red tee-shirt. Harry had the sudden urge to tear his tee-shirt to pieces. Not in an impulse of desire, no. An impulse of murder.

"The good-looking blonde on the sofa."

Harry's voice had sounded more bitter than he had wanted.

"Ah, you haven't chosen an easy target, that's for sure."

Ellis took a gulp of his gin tonic and, still eying the blonde, continued, "Draco. That's his name."Then, with cloudy eyes: "A very, very good lay."

Harry swallowed his saliva and blurted out a weak, "Oh yeah ?"

The man jerked his head a little, brows raised as if to say "You have no idea…"and Harry felt knots in his stomach again.

"Are you still together?"

Ellis laughed. "Oh we're well and truly over. It never even began. Draco is a wild stallion. If you're up for a one night stand, you can try your luck, but nothing more. "

"But I saw you embracing him."

Ellis stared at Harry, surprised. The brunet was afraid he was playing it all wrong, so he bet on his innocent side. He lowered his eyes and said with his most impish look:

"For a minute I thought, what a pity, the two most beautiful men at the party are together."

Ellis caressed Harry's cheek, then came close to his ear and started biting it. He was not tender and the brunet didn't enjoy the feeling at all, but he allowed it to continue. Ellis was about to speak when another voice interrupted him:

"You haven't wasted your time. So, you found yourself a little distraction?"

Ellis straightened in his seat and Harry peeked up. Before him, Draco's gorgeous face seemed like a blinding sun. The effect he had on him was unsettling and at this juncture, Harry cursed himself for being so weak.

_Pull yourself together._

Draco bent towards the counter to pick some pistachios, his arm interposing between Harry and his neighbour. He seemed so relaxed, his smile, his malicious eyes…

"I see you have met my dear Harry."

Harry turned pale for a second and threw a guilty smile at Ellis.

"Yes, we were just getting acquainted," said Ellis, looking at Harry with mischievous eyes.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to steal him for a moment."

Draco didn't wait for his answer. He grabbed Harry's hand and guided him away from the bar. Ellis watched them leave with a little smile and winked at Harry. Before he lost sight, he raised his voice,

"A rain check then, Harry… "

The brunet barely heard him, absorbed by the sensation of Draco's hand in his. The blond led him to the yellow sofa. He sat beside two tacky girls and tapped on the empty place next to him. Harry joined him a bit hesitantly and Draco whispered to his ear, "So, did you get any good 'intel'?" He gave Harry an intent look. The brunet shrugged.

Draco laughed alone and scanned the crowd. He came closer to the girls on his right. He said something, the girls laughed. The next moment Harry focused at Draco, the blonde was sharing a joint with the two girls. He gave no look, no word to Harry who felt suddenly very abandoned. Harry took a drink to occupy himself and kept the glass in his hands, absently noting the bubbles burst and disappear. A hand closed suddenly around his knee. He lifted his head and found himself face to face with Draco. The blonde put the joint between his lips, inhaled and bent towards Harry. He brought his face close to his, hand against his cheek, his mouth a centimeter from Harry's, the ghost of a kiss. Harry understood the gesture and half-opened his mouth. Draco blew gently, the volutes of smoke escaping from his mouth to slip inside Harry's. The exchange was sensual, the white smoke lingering between their lips. It lasted only a few seconds, and it seemed the magic was back, because there was no way the soft tingling on his cheek was natural. Harry unconsciously closed his eyes and released the smoke, letting his mind fly away, a blissful smile on his face. Draco's face drew slowly away from him.

.

Harry didn't know how he ended up on the balcony. He was seated on the ground in a corner, away from the turmoil. He looked up at the pitch black sky. Hours must have gone by. Several guests had already left and Harry decided to enquire about the others. He staggered a bit, his head heavy, and scanned all around him, eyes screwed up. His contacts were hurting him, and he couldn't see clearly. He rubbed his eyes a few times.

There.

He spotted Nott just two meters from him, snogging some girl on a leather seat. No sign of Draco, Flint or Zabini.

The music was no more than dull background noise as he journeyed across the main room and opened the first door he saw. Inside the bright yellow doorway, there were bodies slumped all around, coats strewn on the bed, and he recognized no one. He left this room and went to the next, a deep purple door. He opened it and could hear very explicit moans. He rolled his eyes, attempting to close the door, when he caught,

"Aaaaah… Draco!"

Harry snapped his head around. He couldn't have closed the door even if he'd been forced to.

And indeed, it was Draco, there, his pants down to his knees, bottom bare, lying on the red tee-shirt guy, the one Harry had spotted earlier. The bitch certainly got what he wanted. Draco was bent over him, fucking him wildly from behind, the guy grimacing under the thrusts and mewling like a cat in heat. The mattress springs creaked under the brutal movements of the blonde.

Harry was petrified, feeling his blood leave his body and his eyes blur.

Draco turned then towards him, the action slow and intentional, as if he knew he were there from the beginning. He looked Harry straight in the eye, without stopping his thrusts. The scene was turning obscene.

Harry watched him dumbfounded.

_What? What the fuck was that? _

What was he trying to do?

Their stares didn't deviate. Draco's eyes were cold. Merciless.

Harry's throat tightened. He tried to swallow but couldn't. He left the room hurriedly, the door closed behind his back, his hand still on the knob, sure it was all a mirage, a bad joke. He tried to regain his control and ran a hand through his hair, abashed by his own reactions. Why was he so affected by what he just saw? It was Draco, this cruel and heartless bastard. What did he expect? And anyway, they owed nothing to each other. They were nothing to each other. It was a job, nothing more.

_No, nothing more._

Harry didn't give a damn, he just wanted to get out. He rushed towards Nott and gripped his shoulder, shaking him off the girl.

"I want to leave," he said impatiently.

Nott pushed his hand away and groaned, "What? Leave me the fuck alone !"

But Harry didn't let go and shook Nott's shoulders harder.

"I want to leave, now."

Nott, this time really pissed off, brutally pushed him away.

"Sod off ! "

Harry had to hold onto the back of the seat to prevent his fall.

"What an arse," whispered Nott before resuming the kiss with the girl.

Harry retraced his steps, thoroughly annoyed, and finally found Flint, smoking on the balcony. Two drunk couples laughed and chatted next to them.

Harry sat on the ground and said in a flat voice, "I suppose I must stay till you guys are ready to leave, is that it ?"

Flint blew his smoke away and answered without looking at him, "I'm going to stay a bit. Nott and Zabini usually leave last, but Draco never lingers. Just wait for him, he shouldn't be long."

Harry averted his face. He looked like a little boy brooding. "I wouldn't be so sure… I don't know if I can bear it for so long," he muttered.

He sighed and lowered his head. Flint just took another puff, and a second one. They stayed there in silence.

Three songs later, Draco emerged from the room. Flint went to talk to him and Harry stayed on the ground, quietly waiting the course of events. Draco came to the balcony but stayed by the window's opening, his face barely visible.

"You coming ?" he simply said.

Harry stood up with a sigh.

Crabbe led the way. Harry silently followed Draco to the door… to the elevator… to the car… to the White Cottage's door.

Harry slammed the door hard behind him. Every angle of his posture was angry: his heavy steps, the way he threw his jacket on one of the pegs and pushed one of the seats out of his way. He did everything he could to show his frustration but nothing came out of his mouth. Draco eventually grew exasperated by his childish behaviour.

Draco took his jacket off and asked with a dry tone, "You want to say something ?"

" Huh ?" Harry furrowed his brows almost comically, all sarcasm. "You're worried about me now?"

Draco immediately revised his conduct and decided to abort the conversation. He probably didn't want to give the impression he cared the least bit about Harry. His question had been a mistake and, from here, the discussion could only turn sour.

The blonde's broken air and his retreat galvanized Harry who saw this as an opportunity to get back at him. He took two steps towards Draco and harshly spat:

"This whole Organization thing is such a joke! Have you looked at yourself ?"

Draco withstood his glare and stepped forward in turn to measure up to him.

Harry continued in the same vein :

"What the fuck is it that you are doing exactly? Besides, of course, hanging around, partying, getting drunk and high and fucking whores?"

Draco bit back : "What's it to you? You aren't even supposed to be here..." Then, scornfully: " We took you in out of pity for Pansy, you are a fucking liability."

"You're pathetic," Harry simply said.

His contemptuous look triggered Draco's anger. The blonde barked, his eyes full of flames :

"You are such a piece of shit! Look in a mirror! Who are you to judge me? You are nothing! NOTHING!"

His face was turning red with anger and fatigue.

"Look at you…" Draco eyed Harry up and down, "… a pitiful beggar, ready for anything to find some affection."

Goyle who came down to make sure the situation would not get out of hand, chose this interlude to come forward, but Draco stopped him with his hand before resuming, eyes riveted on Harry:

"You've done nothing with your life! You couldn't even dream up the things I've built."

Harry countered him with a sarcastic laugh: "What this house of cards?"

He craned his body forward, defying Draco.

"Your 'gang'? You can't even handle them! You let them walk all over you, and you call yourself a leader! You make me laugh."

Impervious to Harry's word, Draco kept attacking him, shaking his head:

"Nobody wants you, and that's the truth."

Harry saw red. He came dangerously close to Draco, and only Goyle kept him from throwing himself at the blonde. He was yelling now.

"You are the one who can't handle the truth! Your boat is sinking! From what I saw, this is just a big mess ! You turned soft, apathetic, whatever, but MacNair, Greyback, they will all betray you ! Everyone knows it, but nobody has the guts to tell it to your face!" He lowered his voice: "The worst thing is you don't even see it!"

He let out a breath, the pressure easing now.

Draco looked shaken from a few seconds, then he pulled himself together, and said in a definitive tone, "You're out."

He took a few steps, then turned to Harry again.

"It's over ! Finished ! I've had it up to here."

He looked at Goyle and ordered him, "You pack his stuff and you send him off first thing in the morning."

Harry stayed still, staring at him like a curious object.

There was nothing more to add. All had been said.

_Don't give a shit. _

Goyle walked upstairs and Harry followed suit without a peek behind. In the landing, he heard Draco's voice,

"Pansy will do without you. Believe me, no one will miss you." 

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

One hour had passed and silence invaded the house. The living room was plunged into half-obscurity, the lights dimmed. Goyle had allowed Harry a few minutes out of his room. It was his last night here after all. Harry walked down the stairs. He moved forward, certain to find Flint on the couch. He had no such luck.

Draco was seated, drink in hand, and reacted automatically to his intrusion:

"What the fuck are you doing here, I don't want to see your face."

No valid excuse in head, Harry came towards the table and, fortunately, found a book that was lying about.

"I'm just collecting my things," he said calmly.

He barely finished his phrase when Draco snapped:

"Goyle'll take care of it. Get lost!"

Harry contained himself, silent. It wouldn't do him any good to put add fuel to the flames. He just wanted to be through with it. He slowly headed for the stairway, too slowly maybe, because Draco unexpectedly rose and burst out:

"Go on, get the fuck out of here !"

Harry did nothing to provoke him and kept walking, but when he reached the stairs, Draco suddenly pulled him by the arm, with no apparent reason. Harry stumbled back, completely taken aback, his feet getting in a tangle in the flux. When he found his balance back, he pushed the blonde off him wildly, "What the fuck is wrong with you ?"

Draco shoved him by the shoulder. Harry defended himself and returned the hit. Draco pushed Harry by the shoulder again and Harry couldn't hold back anymore. He brutally shoved Draco who hit the counter with a cry. Two seconds passed, suspended, their eyes ablaze and their faces flushed. Then suddenly, their mouths crashed into each other, the rage turning into a searing desire, consuming everything in its path.

The embrace was far from tender, their lips biting at each other, teeth clashing, heads moving from one angle to the next, as if they were trying to devour each other. It was wild and clumsy, their bodies moved frantically, their hands feeling each other like they couldn't get enough of it. They had no more control and their bodies answered to each other on pure instinct.

Harry fell on his knees at once and unbuckled Draco's belt. In the urgency of desire, his hands trembled uncontrollably. He fought with the zip then freed the blonde's erect cock. He immediately swallowed it to the root. The blonde threw his head back, a moan leaving his mouth. Harry sucked him voraciously, eyes closed, his head bobbing faster and faster. He vaguely heard Draco above him,

"Oh yeah… oh fuck… "

Draco's hands came to firmly grip his wild hair and Harry knew he wouldn't last long. They had gone too far too quickly. The pressure of the hands over his head got stronger and stronger. The gesture turned him even more and he accelerated his activity. He opened his eyes and looked up to meet the feverish look pinned on him. Harry was entranced by the sight: the lips parted, the head inclined forward, the blond strands falling over his eyes. This sight of such abandon got the better of him and Harry came in his pants without even having to touch himself.

Draco was not far behind. The mouth wrapped around his cock, those big innocent eyes in such a sinful situation… Draco immobilized Harry's head and, after two hard thrusts, emptied himself inside the soft mouth with a silent cry. Harry kept him between his lips a few seconds, feeling Draco softening, the bitter taste lingering in his mouth. Then he felt the shaky hands loosing their hold in his hair, and he pulled out. They looked at each other, dazed, the moment surreal.

Harry had finally made Draco speechless.

The blonde was leaning on the counter, heaving, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as Harry tried to catch his breath, still on his knees in front of the blonde, wrapped in the sweet euphoria of his orgasm.

Noises suddenly broke out from behind the door. Laughs, voices and the sound of a key in the lock.

Harry jumped up as if he'd been stung while Draco zipped up his pants.

Panic.

The door opened, letting the light of the outside lanterns in, and Flint, Nott and Zabini noisily crossed the threshold. Harry wasted no time and ran upstairs, leaving no chance for his mind to consider what he just did. He rushed to his room, Goyle frowning as he passed in front of him, then slammed the door and collapsed on his bed, head buried in the covers.

_Fuck Fuck Fuck._

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The next morning, Harry got downstairs early, clean and dressed. He had rings under his eyes : he hadn't closed them once last night. Too many questions in his head, questions he didn't want to answer. The image, the sound of Draco, and most of all the sensations he had the previous night, he hadn't felt this alive for a long time.

But reason always took over. It was a fuck without consequences, no strings attached. At least, he has succeeded in shaking dear Draco up. He bowed out with a bang. A farewell gift.

Harry sat behind the counter like a zombie, Goyle behind him. Muffins, sausages and pancakes were already served on several plates. He poured himself a glass of orange juice, looking through the little window, eyes half-closed, shoulders hunched. If there had been a pillow before him, he would probably have fallen upon it.

Behind him, Goyle announced, "The car's ready"

Harry turned his head around but the bodyguard wasn't facing him. He hadn't addressed him. It was then that Harry saw Draco on the couch. He hadn't even noticed him when he entered the room. The blonde looked worse for wear, his clothes from the day before on his back, glassy eyes. He must have had passed the night here. He had a strange expression on his face, anxious but determined at the same time. The face of someone who had carefully thought things through.

The blonde stared into emptiness when his grating voice rang out :

"He stays."

Draco got up and left the room.

Those were the only words he expressed that day. 


	9. Which Side Are You On?

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The great Avenalanon. Any mistake left is mine.

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**** : WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON ?**

**May 17, 2004**

"He stays." Two words that could change everything.

Draco hadn't left his quarters since the previous day and Harry was apprehensive about their next encounter. He wondered what could be going through Draco's mind. The man was so unpredictable.

As the morning ended, Harry received an invitation to the game room, where he was to be escorted by Crabbe. On his way, he caught sight of Pansy on the terrace. No break in the glum weather, and yet, the young girl was lying on one of the deckchairs in a tank top and short skirt as though she were expecting the sun to miraculously appear and warm her up. Harry opened the French window and poked his head out of the door frame.

"Pansy ? Aren't you cold ?"

She looked at him with a smile on her lips.

"No, I'm fine. I'm just waiting… You coming ?"

Harry lifted his head. Black clouds were threatening in the sky and the cold breeze gave him achill. He answered, trying to hide his reservations :

"Uh, maybe later ?"

Pansy had already closed her eyes. Harry didn't insist and shut the door. He turned to Crabbe, apologizing with his eyes, and followed him.

Harry hadn't set foot in the game room since his arrival. He honestly hadn't even known there was one. Crabbe guided him to one of the doors whose access was usually forbidden to Harry. He knocked and opened it, granting Harry entrance before disappearing.

It was a big comfy room. A large leather wall seat hugging the entire facade on the right, a big billiard table on the left, a poker table next to the windows. Nott was concentrating on the billiard balls, calculating the best trajectory, while Zabini was watching him, patiently leaning on the wall, his cue set vertically on the floor. Nott bent over the table and positioned his cue over the green baize. Circling the tip with his finger, he hesitated a few seconds and straightened up. Zabini sighed.

"Whenever you want … "

Nott threw him a dark look.

Draco was on the phone at the other end of the room.

Harry looked at the thin blond hair on his nape, his shoulders relaxed, the elegant outfit. He took a few steps but stayed in the middle of the room in front of the wall seat, feeling ill at ease. He had not seen Draco since their little misdemeanor and he had no idea how he was going to handle the situation. That night, he had acted in the spur of the moment, both spontaneous and rash. He had not planned it. The episode had been rushed, no romance, no declarations, but sex at its basest form. How Draco was going to react now ?

As questions raced through his head, Draco hung up and turned to Zabini who was looking at him attentively. A smile appeared on the blonde's face and he nodded at Zabini who closed his fist tightly in a sign of victory. "Yes !" he yelled.

Nott looked up and seeing their cheering faces, he started to laugh. Draco soon joined him in a burst of joy.

Harry was confused, though he couldn't help but rejoice for them. The ambiance had been so morose lately.

Draco came forward and Zabini clapped him in the back on his way.

"Finally good news," said Draco, triumphant.

He turned towards the pool table. "Nott, go fetch Flint, will you?"

Nott groaned and threw his cue on the table. He wouldn't score today. Zabini started to laugh at him with an idiotic and irritating mirth. Nott narrowed his eyes and shoved his shoulder on his way out of the room.

Draco now approached Harry. The brunet, suddenly very embarrassed, looked everywhere but the man's face. He feared a nasty outcome: The blonde would take advantage of his weakness, and put him down in front of Zabini, screw with him. He couldn't even hold his gaze.

But Draco just walked past him to reach the mini-bar next to the wall seat, and Harry released his breath, relieved.

Draco grabbed a few mini bottles of alcohol. He tossed one to Zabini and handed another to Harry who took it cautiously, his guard up. Draco opened his and took a big gulp. He stared at Harry for a moment until Flint entered, followed by Nott. Harry kept his vodka in his hands, holding it tightly, the drops on the cold bottle running down his fingers.

Was Draco trying to integrate him into their circle ? It was unlikely. It was too fast…

Draco looked away and handed a few more bottles to his men. He clinked them with his to drink to their success.

"Good. Things seem to be turning out well for us. The new contact has been okayed. Now that we have the green light, we can organize the withdrawal. All is well."

Harry was taken aback. He was in the room and yet, Draco was speaking openly, even though he revealed no specific details.

This was a first.

Had his little treat had more impact than he expected ?

Harry took a gulp of alcohol. It felt odd, he acted as though he were part of the gang, but it was so far from the truth.

Draco took a black notebook out of his pocket. He rummaged inside and announced:

"Alright, enough with trivialities, I can't miss my one o'clock. Zabini and Nott, you're going with me."

Flint furrowed his brows and Draco added:

"Sorry, but I need you here. Pansy wasn't very coherent this morning and I don't want to take risks."

Nott took Flint's defense and said:

"Harry's here for that, isn't he ?"

"Yes, but I need to check the property and I want him to join us there."

Flint said with a detached air: "Ok, ok, fine boss." and lit up a cigarette.

Draco turned to Harry.

"Be there at four. Crabbe will drive you."

Harry stayed silent. Draco just smiled at him, eyes unfathomable.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Later, after escorting Pansy to her room, Harry went back to the living room. Flint was seated in the library area, papers in hand. Harry moved forward to join him.

Feeling a presence, Flint tensed on his chair. Then he caught sight of Harry and relaxed, placing the papers back in a drawer.

Harry began:

"Can we talk ?"

Flint moved first to a high tech Hi-fi system and turned it on. It spit a loud jazz music into the room.

Flint came real close to Harry and said :

"I've got the situation in hand. The only problem is the meeting place. Draco didn't reveal the date or the place. I couldn't find a way to make him talk. But I know it'll happen soon."

"The 30th," Harry said.

"What ?"

"I heard a conversation with MacNair. It's due on the 30th. »

Flint nodded, looking a bit surprised. Flint surely didn't expect Harry to have such information.

"Delivery or distribution?"

Harry shrugged. Flint scratched his chin and went on:

"Hmn… Since the last three deliveries, Draco only warns us at the last minute, he gives us the directions on the way. And of course, it leaves us no leeway. We have a date, it's already something. Now, we need to find the rest. We must nick the new dealer and, as far as he's concerned, I've got nothing, no identity. You'll have to find a way to gather more information."

Harry answered with a nod.

Flint had infiltrated the gang, an inside man since the very beginning; he was Harry's contact. McCarthy had warned Harry that they wouldn't have many interactions, and given Flint's position, Harry knew they wouldn't have many occasions to collaborate.

It was McCarthy who put Flint in Draco's path. No blackmail from what Harry knew. Flint had volunteered for the job when McCarthy approached him. Harry had no further details about this. Thanks to Flint, several of Draco's operations had failed, and some of his partners in crime had been apprehended. But for the last six months, Draco had become more suspicious, and rightly so. Flint, but also Zabini and Nott had been sifted through. They were no more privy to his secrets. All these precautions had thwarted McCarthy's plans, hence Harry's addition in the equation.

Harry asked:

"To contact McCarthy, what do I do? I pass through you?"

Flint shook his head :

"Uh-uh. I have to go to the property this weekend. It's a country house. You'll see, it's like a second headquarters, but Draco's not very fond of it. We rarely go down there anymore but once in a while, he visits to make sure everything's in order, and then I go and make the last checks. I don't know how long I'll stay there, but meanwhile, if you find out anything, you'll have to be able to inform McCarthy right away."

Harry sighed, not very keen on having to play the messenger. Flint rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, everything's settled. There's a lunch on the 24th at Stefano's. Pansy will also join, so Draco will surely bring you with them. McCarthy plans to post an agent at the kiosk a few meters away, you can't miss it. All you have to do is write down the information. Even if you've got nothing, you note it, and if you have any suspicion, anything, you write it down. Your contact will place an old box prominently on his counter. You'll leave the piece of paper in it. It will go quickly."

Harry, attentive, nodded and asked promptly:

"And if I want news about… I mean, if I have a question to ask, can't I contact him directly?"

"No, never use his number, you know that."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Flint cut him off:

"Same thing, you write it down, and you'll see if you have an answer on the next meeting. We'll manage like this for now."

Flint warned him, his gaze serious :

"Watch out, be vigilant. You don't want to fuck it up. I think you have nothing to worry about, but knowing Draco, we can never be too careful. He may seem to have let his guard down with you, but believe me, he won't give you a rest."

Harry nodded and scratched his head, a hint of nervousness. Suddenly, they heard a noise upstairs. Flint lifted his head and took a step back. End of the briefing. Flint casually lit a cigarette and returned to the library, as if their conversation had never occurred.

Alone in the middle of the room, Harry took a few moments to think. Draco and McCarthy were both as dangerous as each other. Harry was stuck between to devils. He couldn't possibly come out a winner. He decided to join Pansy near the swimming-pool. He had a sudden urge to lie down on the desk chair under the cold breeze.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry got out of the car. The air was heavy and electric, and he clutched his blue blazer closer to his body. The property was huge. It was a big country house with two stories. Numerous windows, a curtain of ivy over the walls. A big garden surrounded the house. A little hut sat nearby and a lake was visible, far off in the distance. Most striking was the security system, there were moving video cameras at the four corners of the house, and a cabin up the alley with two security guys inside. A real fort. Electric cables wound in the corners, all around the house.

Harry approached the stony steps. Crabbe was already inside and the moment Harry was about to cross the door, the bodyguard backtracked and said :

"Follow me."

"Does Draco come here often?" Harry asked.

Crabbe didn't utter a word. Harry shrugged and followed him, his hands in his pockets.

They went back to the car. The grey clouds invaded the sky and gave a crepuscular atmosphere to the landscape. On the road, Harry had plenty of time to contemplate the gigantic land of the property, his wooded surroundings.

"Impressive," he murmured.

The car stopped in front of a Chevrolet already parked there.

Once out of the car, Crabbe and Harry stepped out onto a little dirt road lined with tall grass. Harry enjoyed the nature fully and looked at the horizon. His stay at the cottage had made him a bit claustrophobic. A life-size cupboard, a real trip from the past. Harry was happy to have been allowed this small liberty. Furthermore, the sight of Crabbe in his suit, his leather shoes smudged with mud, was pretty amusing .

They arrived in an open-air field. In the distance, Draco's profile rose from the high grass. Harry moved forward. Once the view cleared up, he could fully admire the blonde, his shirt's sleeves rolled up, his strands caressing his face, swaying softly in the wind. Aligned beside him, Nott and Zabini had taken off their jackets too. Harry was still too far to see them clearly.

_Baaam !_

A detonation. The sound of broken glass. Harry started, instinctively protecting his head with his hands. Crabbe kept walking indifferently. Harry watched him go away, brows furrowed, then turned to the three men while Nott's hysterical laugh rang out.

Crabbe stopped and urged Harry to come closer with his eyes. Harry took a step forward, then two.

_Baaam !_

Another detonation. Once again, Harry shuddered and stooped his shoulders under the noise, but this time, he kept moving. He walked past Crabbe who looked at him one last time before heading back to the car.

Harry turned to Draco's direction and saw him stretch out his arm with a fierce look, his posture powerful. In his hand, a revolver. Draco aimed and shot.

_Baaam!_

The glass bottle that was perched on a broken wooden barricade exploded at once. Draco smiled and Zabini whistled.

"Nice shot !"

Nott stepped forward and, without any grace, lifted his arm in turn. He started to shoot in a chaotic fashion, wasting bullet after bullet, making holes in the wood again and again, more interested by the destruction and the damages that he could cause than the initial target. He was shouting while he kept firing off and Harry felt repulsed by his behaviour. The unhealthy pleasure in the violence. It was in such moments that Harry could perceive the darkness Pansy spoke of, evil at its purest. Nott was turning monstrous, his look wild and his body jolting. Harry didn't see the man anymore, he saw the demon that sprung inside Nott. Draco's voice put an end to the show :

"That's enough!"

Nott's laughter died slowly to leave only the sound of the wind on the grass and the trees all around.

Draco stretched his arm again, his gesture sure, and shot down another bottle who went crashing on the ground. He stayed with his arm outstretched, gun in hand, and turned around, pointing the gun straight at Harry. Draco's face turned impassive. Harry cringed and his brain shut off. He could see nothing but the gun's barrel aiming at him, the threatening little dark hole.

With a turn of the wrist, the gun did a half turn and Draco was now presenting him the gun's grip. Draco laughed briefly and said:

"Your turn."

Harry licked his dry lips and gulped. He approached shakily.

He didn't take the gun right away and Draco had to lower it and practically put it in his hand. Nott was laughing at him while Zabini was quietly observing the interaction between the two men.

Harry wasn't at ease, but under the impatient gazes of the three men, he started raising his gun. He tried to take it more firmly in his hand, his palm closing and reopening slightly several times before he found the right grip. His arm was all limp and his body sagged, his stance defensive, as if he were expecting the gun to explode in his hand. He screwed up his eyes and eventually shot, missing the targets completely. Under the detonation, his body propelled backwards. His eyes were dazed and his heart was beating wildly.

Draco lowered his eyes while Nott was openly mocking Harry, laughing heartily again :

"Wow, I think we have a crack shot among us."

Draco, deaf to his sarcasms, came close to Harry by behind and put his hand on his shoulder. The gesture provoked an umpteenth jump from the young man, obviously unenthusiastic about this pastime. Draco kept his hand in place on him and whispered:

"Calm down You're all tense."

He aligned himself with Harry, the brunet's back against his torso.

"Stand straight" he told him, clinging closer to him. Harry automatically complied, his breathing jerky, still in shock from the previous shot but also from his position against the blond. Draco took his hand, wrapping it like a glove, accompanying the gesture.

"Slowly… but stay firm. Look, it feels like your arm weighs a ton. You have to keep your hand firm."

Draco's body against his felt so robust, all strength. Not an ounce of hesitation in his gestures. Enveloped like this, Harry took more confidence, as if Draco had breathed strength into him. His look too became more determined. He aimed and pulled the trigger. A shot sharp and precise. The sound of the broken glass rang out like the sound of victory. His backward jerk was broken by Draco and the close proximity of his body sent his senses haywire.

"Not bad," said Zabini.

At the sound of his voice, Harry detached from Draco as if burnt.

The blonde said to his two henchmen:

"Could you enquire with Matthew for a moment?"

Nott looked at him with bemusement and Zabini merely smiled. Draco insisted :

"I'll catch up with you."

The two men took their jackets off an old tree trunk nearby and left.

Harry and Draco found themselves alone on the improvised firing range.

"They become tiring after a while. You want to give it another shot?"

Harry threw him a confused look before realizing Draco was talking about the firing. He confessed:

"I'm not sure it's my thing… The guns I mean. "

Draco looked at him with a comprehensive air.

"You've never shot before?"

Harry shook his head.

"I can't get used to this. It's cold, merciless. I can't feel the humanity behind it. Even the sensation in hand… " With those words, he looked down at his hand. "This machine… it's just a mechanism."

"Is it the loss of control that scares you, or the violence of the act?" Draco asked languidly.

He came closer to Harry and whispered to his ear:

"That's what turns me on. The risk and the raw brutality."

Harry looked up to him, this time overwhelmed by desire. He leant towards Draco, his lips getting close to his, but at the last minute, Draco stepped away.

Harry collected himself and suddenly spoke with an ardor that sounded like a reproach:

"We're not at war anymore. This is not about the Light versus the Dark side, but about personal interests, and I'm not willing to put lives at stake for it."

Draco looked at him as if he were insane :

"What are you talking about ? Muggles and their crusade against us, you think it's so different from war?" He gestured wildly, carried away by his speech. " They started the hostilities and what ? We should just turn the other cheek ! I'll pass, thank you." He paused and towered over Harry, hammering the words with his hand: "It's them against us."

"Maybe at first, but look at you, you already won, but you will want more, and no one must stand in your way. It's you against the world!"

Both men circled around each other and turned away, their minds all worked up.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to preserve what is rightfully ours," retorted Draco. "I'm only defending what is mine! And if there are collateral damages, too bad."

Harry was horrified by his words.

"How can you say such a thing? Does human life have no importance for you ?"

"Depends which one."

Harry scoffed and shook his head, dumbfounded.

Draco let fall his arms on his sides, gun still in hand and went on:

"Despite what you proclaim, you still see the world in black and white, good against evil, hm ?"

He wanted to force Harry to look at him but the latter kept moving away. Draco then stood just in front of him and followed him like a shadow, in a strange dance. Harry was forced to stop.

"And you think I'm evil, right ?"

Harry looked at him, breathing hard, as if debating with himself. Draco stayed real close to him and went on, his voice suddenly very calm and confidential:

"Then what are you doing here ?

Harry blinked at him. What could he answer to that?

"You knew who you were dealing with… So, let me ask you again: What. Are you. Doing here ?"

Harry knew exactly why he was with Draco, but the question went further in his head. Because in spite of his mission, he wanted to stay with him. He had to admit that his relief when Draco announced he could stay wasn't only related to his task . He was fascinated with Draco and his attraction to him was strong. But he needed to smother whatever he felt, because he knew that whatever might happen, he had to go through with the job. He would not fail. Not for the life of Remus.

However, when he answered to Draco, his words felt true :

"I'm here for you."

His voice almost broke there. They looked at each other right in the eye. Draco smiled but didn't say a word. Droplets began to fall on the field. Draco went to the barrier and removed the pieces of glass to let them fall on the ground. Behind him, Harry ran a hand through his hair and tried to get his bearings back.

Draco told him in a very serious tone :

"You know what you told me last time, it made me think. Your words were hard, but I needed to hear it."

Harry wasn't expecting such a revelation and was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, but Draco looked frank and if he were bluffing, then he was a damn good actor.

"You were right… I've been spreading myself too thin lately, but I decided to get things back in order."

Once the plank cleared, he put the two last bottles in the center. The drizzle formed streams on the glasses and created little sounds in the bottom of the bottles, like music notes.

"I know we started off on the wrong track, but I want to rectify that."

Draco took his place back next to Harry and said:

"I don't fully trust you. It's in my nature to be mistrustful, and till them, it worked for me."He looked at him mischievously. "And you have way too many secrets for me to let you come too close."

He positioned his arm straight towards the target and went on:

« My trust, you'll have to earn it."

He shot once, twice.

_Baaam! Baaam!_

The two bottles exploded.

"But I'm ready to give you a chance," he ended.

Harry didn't know what to say. He was astounded by this sudden change of heart. The moment he thought he would leave the ship, he was back on board and in a spectacular fashion. This thought made him gloat inside. His mission was turning out so well. But he felt something else, a satisfaction way deeper.

He ghosted a smile and answered:

"That's all I'm asking for."

Draco looked at him then lifted his head to the sky. The rain had intensified and in a few seconds transformed in a full deluge. Draco took Harry's arm and picked up his jacket.

"Quick !"

They began to run on the dirt road, shielding themselves with their jackets over their heads, eyes screwed up. Harry started to laugh and Draco imitated him soon, both joyfully floundering in the mud to the car, giggling. They reached the Chevrolet and entered inside at the same time, breathless, their clothes soaked. Draco smoothed down his hair and Harry shook his head wildly, a big smile on his face like an excited little boy.

They turned their heads and stared at each other. They knew what was going to happen. Their stares turned serious as their breaths evened out, the sound of the rain battling the windows. Then Draco pulled himself close to Harry, the brunet meeting him halfway, and then they were kissing. Harry's hands came snaking around Draco's neck while the blonde buried his fingers in his dark locks. They played with each other tongues as they turned their heads. The kiss was going on forever as they mapped each other mouths. Lost in the passion, they barely took the time to catch their breaths. The only sound they could hear was the beating of their hearts, the sucking sounds and the downpour like a torrent of stones against the car.

Harry attacked Draco's neck then, licking the rain drops on his skin, when the blonde began to slide his hands under Harry's almost transparent t-shirt. The brunet moaned, their bodies pressing against each other with more ardor. Harry unbuttoned Draco's shirt now completely open. His damps hands caressed the thinly muscled torso, leaving humid traces on their way.

Draco threw off his jacket on the dashboard and climbed between the two seats to reach the back seat, grabbing Harry by the collar to drag him behind. Heads bent and backs hunched, they wiggled and writhed to keep their heads from banging on the roof and their feet from catching on the tiny space between the seats. Their hands on the roof, the window, the seat, their bodies clumsily interlocked, they hastily tried to position themselves, frantic and avid for caresses. They couldn't hold it any longer.

Draco seized Harry's t-shirt to bring him closer to him and turned him over, Harry finding himself on his back on the seat. The leather creaked under their movements. Draco caressed each recesses of Harry's body, from his thighs to his torso, lifting his t-shirt to his shoulders. He drew a back a moment to open his trousers and pulled them down to free his cock. Harry looked at him impatiently and mirrored his gestures, unzipping his jeans, lowering them to his knees.

The narrowness of the space restricted their movements, and the two men were breathing hard under the effort and the frustration. Draco jerkily lifted Harry's legs, the brunet's knee rubbing against the seat to untangle itself, then Draco passed them over his shoulders. He prepared Harry with his fingers in a rush, merely a few seconds. Harry tensed under the sensation but got quickly adapted to the intrusion. Draco penetrated him, then, to the hilt. Harry let out a muffled cry, his breath cut, then Draco started a brutal rhythm, the shag urgent and chaotic. At this point, Harry was unable to form coherent words. He could only close his eyes and surrender to Draco. His hands clenched against the seat's edge and he let escape little cries, in time with Draco's thrusts, as the tempo accelerated again and again.

In his foggy mind, Harry couldn't believe what was happening. It was Draco inside of him, his former nemesis, the man he had hated for so long, the man he would soon have to betray. But nothing mattered anymore, it all faded under the intensity of his pleasure.

Then, Draco leaned completely over Harry, the latter bent in half, their foreheads against each other. Harry half-opened his eyes, gazing at Draco's face, watching his mouth twist in pleasure. The blond locks tickled his nose and Harry was once more overwhelmed by the act. The stretch he felt, the way Draco possessed him, this was an intimacy he'd never thought possible with the blonde. And yet… Suddenly, the blonde bit his shoulder and sucked the thin skin in a voracious way. Harry pushed his hands against the door, impaling himself while Draco pushed in him, the penetration deeper. Harry grimaced and arched his back. He felt everything explode, shouting Draco's name without even realizing it. The blonde put his hand on the window to support himself and shut his eyes tight, the pressure raising while Harry tightened around him. With a big groan, he came inside the brunet. He stayed still a few seconds, enjoying the last wave of pleasure, before slumping against Harry.

The rain was still falling hard around them. Their bodies, humid and burning, heaved with each breath, then slowly calmed down. Draco lifted his head, eyes scrutinizing the brunet. Before Harry could notice his troubled stare**, **Draco had turned around and withdrew from him. Draco stretched his arm to catch his jacket and picked up a handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his torso clean with it and let it fall on the brunet's belly for him to clean himself.

Draco smoothed down his hair and lifted his pants under Harry's alert gaze. He climbed between the front seats to take his place back under the wheel and slipped back on his shirt. In a few seconds, he was ready. He switched on the ignition, the car roaring, whereas Harry had barely started getting dressed again in the back.

Harry was thrown off by the rapidity of the act and the speed with which Draco had erased all traces of it. He wondered if Draco treated all his lovers that way. He thought it would be different with him, that he had managed to "touch" Draco somehow, but he wasn't so sure about it now.

The end of the drive went by in a silence Harry didn't dare to break. What could he say anyway?

The car was already in front of the property and pulled over.

"You stay here," said Draco after taking the key off the ring.

Harry obeyed and stayed motionless on his seat. He felt keenly like an old kleenex, used and thrown away. He felt nauseous, empty. Too many emotions he couldn't control. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. It was a mission, just a mission. He tried to engrave those images and feelings in his body and mind. He was going to keep them deep inside to remember it when the time would come, when things would go further.

Yes. He would see this through, see through Draco, and make him fall.


	10. Ghosts of the Past

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon and MsLefay.

* * *

**CHAPTER 9 : GHOSTS OF THE PAST**

Harry had been authorized to enter the property half an hour after Draco's departure. He entered into a spacious hall, a small round table in front of him and a large living room on his right. The place was luxurious, like everything that surrounded Draco. But Harry assumed a blasé attitude, hands in his pockets, his face sullen. Draco ended his discussion with a man in a black uniform. The blonde looked a bit uneasy, more nervous than usual.

"Matthew, would you show our guest round the house?"

Harry made a full turn, looking right and left, without showing much curiosity about his surroundings, and said in a nasty voice, "No, thanks. I'm not interested"

Draco stared at him, not fooled.

"What's your problem?"

"No, what's your problem?" Harry retorted straight away. "You want to show off? I've seen enough okay. I know your type.."

Draco played along. "I've got nothing to prove, and least of all to you. Do as you wish."

He began climbing the stair when Harry added, "You may delude yourself into thinking you own everything, but you can't have it all."

Draco caught the banister with his hand and bent forward on the step. His posture gave him a superior air as he threw out viciously, "I got you, didn't I?"

If he was looking for a reaction, he'd won: the way Harry took his hands out of his pockets at once, and pinned him with furious eyes should have satisfied him fully.

"No, you didn't get me, believe me. Not for one moment."

"Tsk tsk. Right Potter, whatever you say."

Harry turned away, teeth clenched. Impossible to have the last word with this pretentious prick.

Harry looked through the window. The weather seemed to have calmed a bit, a thin curtain of rain subsided. Harry left the house, scarcely bothered by the drizzle, and went to sit on the steps fuming. He stayed sitting there, observing the lake from afar. He couldn't get Draco out of his head. Pensively he got up and walked along the gravel, eyes downcast, hitting the stones with his toes and pushing them with annoyance.

He turned around and around, examined the security booth, then the camera above him. It made a high pitched buzzing sound. Harry stared straight into the eye of the camera. He thought for a moment. Why was this place, practically deserted, so far away from the city, under such high security? The property looked more like a family home than their cottage, and yet the latter wasn't nearly as secured as this house.

Still lost in thoughts, his gaze slid from the camera to one of the windows upstairs. His eyes fell on a silhouette, shiny eyes seeming to pierce through the glass: Draco. Harry frowned for a second but kept his eyes glued to the figure. They surveyed each other as they would contemplate a painting, each detailing the other, trying to reach inside. Harry looked away first, he couldn't help himself. When he lifted his head shortly after, Draco had disappeared, as if he had never been there.

Harry sighed and walked across the courtyard. He headed to the wooden hut, not out of curiosity but out of pure boredom. He pushed the half open double door and came face to face with a young Hispanic man. The man was putting away several tools in his box. Harry apologized briefly and the man looked at him again. No cordial words, nor curt words. Just a piercing and dark stare. Harry hated him at first sight. Something just didn't feel right about him, it was visceral. The man had a rough physique, but also an animal magnetism, virtually suffocating in strength. Harry closed the door behind him as quickly as he could and started when he crossed the face of a severe man in a black uniform. With his prominent cheekbones and piercing eyes, the man was almost scary.

Harry felt caught in a hostile and cold environment.

"Sir, did you finally change your mind about the tour?" asked the man dressed like a penguin.

Getting over his initial shock, Harry recognized the man he had seen earlier with Draco. From the way he had popped up from nowhere, seemingly jumping in front of him, Harry was beginning to wonder if he had been commissioned to keep him in line.

Harry answered "I may have a few questions, but I don't want to bother you."

The man -_Matthew? _- looked at him mysteriously, as though he were considering his options. _Or his instructions._

Since Matthew didn't oppose it, he asked.

"Does Draco own this house?"

"No."

Harry had hoped for more details but looking at the man's face, he knew he would have to settle for this terse answer. His hand behind his back, Matthew was facing the house making him look like an estate agent.

"It looks pretty old," Harry noted.

Matthew was obviously awaiting this remark, and informed him in a proud and pompous tone

"It is full of history. The house was built in 1903. It even harboured the resistance during the Second World War. The house has suffered damage since this period, but a few renovations have made it as good as new."

Harry nodded, falsely appearing impressed. Matthew took a few steps and lifted his heard to look at the property.

"It has seen many things over the years," he mused. "Yes… It conceals many secrets," Matthew said with dark eyes.

Harry scowled. Was he purposely being obtuse or was he trying to scare him again?

They went inside, and naturally, Harry's questions earned him a little ramble around the house.

As Matthew enumerated to him the various treasures of the property, giving many dates and historical details, Harry observed the comings and goings of the house's employees. He noticed the modern electrical system next to the door. Probably the alarm. The device clashed with the ancient decor.

He directed his attention back to Matthew as he recounted the different rooms of the house.

Harry passed the door to a little sitting room on the left, a little study next to it. There were wide glass doors opening into another garden and on the right, the kitchen and staff room.

"This is 'the backstage'. Master Malfoy never wanders here."

The utility room under the stairs. On the first floor, a long corridor opened onto the guest rooms, on the right, Draco's study, Harry's bedroom, a large library and between the latter two, a sitting room. On the second floor what looked like an ancient ballroom stood unused, with its high ceiling and great mirrors covering the walls on either side. In the far corner was a door leading to a spacious study, visibly unoccupied.

The guided tour was over and Matthew left Harry to his own devices and got back to his tasks. Harry, who started to find that time passed slowly, was hanging around in the hall, at a loss for what to do. It didn't seem to him that he was being watched inside, but he knew this was only an illusion. The few staff turned out to be particularly curious. Harry had spotted a young girl and two young men in uniform coming and going as though they were checking on him. Harry felt he was being spied on, not like a potential threat but more like an object of curiosity. He could hear their whispers and see their stolen glances.

Looking up close, the house didn't seem very lively. The rooms were well kept, no trace of dust, but it was all so impersonal. The house seemed frozen in time. Besides, the place looked nothing like Draco, the decor too classical and austere. Harry had the impression he would get punished if he dared move even a chair. Everything was so neat and symmetrical, the chairs aligned behind the tables, the desks positioned with precision. Nothing stuck out.

Then, Harry heard female voices coming from the kitchen door. What a better opportunity to learn more about the life of the house? He opened the door and peeped inside. Two women were busy preparing dinner, chatting with little white aprons over their black uniforms, very old fashioned. The first one was corpulent, preparing a broth, bent over a large gas stove. The other one, smaller, was seated at a wooden table, peeling carrots next to a ceramic bowl. Harry discreetly stepped in, and the two women, who were still conversing, turned their eyes to him.

The more corpulent one reacted first

"Oooh, but what are you doing here? You've lost your way I bet. Tut tut , you had better go find our young master, it wouldn't do if you got him cross. He can be so difficult sometimes..."

"Emma, you see you made him lose his tongue," the other woman scolded. "Young man, can we help you?"

"Uh, I was just looking for a quiet place," he said with his most charming expression.

"Are you hiding?" Emma questioned with mischievous eyes while turning her spatula in a huge casserole.

"You could say that," he answered shyly.

"Well, you found the right place. Young master never sets foot in here. It is from him you're hiding, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, coming near the table, grabbing the back of one of the chairs in his hand.

"You're Harry, right?" Emma whispered with a pert face. "I've been told you're curious, and we received very strict orders concerning you, oh yes."

"Emma!" the other woman chided.

"Why Millie, you can see this young man is absolutely lovely! I'm a good judge of character and I say Master Draco is overly suspicious." She turned to Harry and said, out of the blue "I know I can be a bit eccentric…"

Harry smiled.

"No, no. Actually, I find it quite refreshing. I can give you a hand if you want."

"You can't be serious! This isn't your place," Millie answered, shocked.

Harry insisted. "I don't mind."

And he left her no choice, settling next to her without waiting for permission. She stared at him more than a little embarrassed, but smiled anyway.

"Don't worry, Draco couldn't care less about what I do."

" Oh, I'm sure he does!" Emma interposed. "He can't stop talking about you since you arrived."

"Hm, to set a code of conduct... "

"Oh not only! It's the first time he's talked about someone with such interest since Astoria…"

Millie cut her short, "I think you should watch your words, Emma."

Emma closed her mouth like a clap, realizing her indiscretion, and walled herself to silence.

A sly look flitted across Harry's face. He knew he could get more out of them. He had done well to invite himself here.

In the kitchen, time flew by quietly. Harry had taken a potato peeler and was peeling the carrots with Millie. Emma joined them at the table. She was finishing the chicken preparation, plunging her hands into the carcass to remove the giblets. The sight of the flesh and the blood on her fingers made Harry turn a bit white. Millie laughed under her collar, watching him shrink in his chair. Harry put his hand over his mouth, looked at her and shrugged.

Emma put an end to the silence treatment.

"So, now that we are more acquainted…" Harry smiled at this, they had barely talked! "…well, I've been dying to ask, are you Draco's new crush?"

The word "crush" was so inappropriate, and the mere mention of his relationship with Draco clouded his face.

"I don't know, you'll have to ask him," he answered darkly.

"We know he's a handful, and he's awfully mistrustful, but it's just the way he is. And just the fact that he brought you here with him…"

Emma interrupted herself with a pondering look and resumed with a decided tone

"I guess, we can tell you a thing or two about our dear master."

Millie threw her a dark look.

"Emma no."

"What? Matthew never told us anything about that, I don't see why we shouldn't discuss his character."

She looked at Harry and smiled.

"Harry must know what he's getting himself into."

She'd managed to rouse his interest. Harry bent toward her and said in a gossiping tone

"It's true, I have to confess I'm a bit at loss with Draco. You have all my attention."

Emma pursed her lips, delighted. Millie gazed at him, a bit alarmed, but finally let go.

"Well, your dear Draco has an erratic temper as you certainly know," Emma said. "I remember when he first arrived here, he had this way of looking at us, very haughtily. He hadn't got a grasp of kindness, angry at everyone… And then he met this beautiful girl, very classy. Astoria Greengrass."

She searched through her memories, still manipulating the chicken in her hands.

"He wasn't immediately seduced, no. She was so subdued. But little-by-little, things changed. They started a relationship. I think they fell in love on New Year's Eve, you remember Millie?"

The other woman didn't utter a word and started shelling peas.

"All of a sudden, Miss Greengrass began to act very distant with him. I think he didn't appreciate her…. He was so sure of his charm. In this regard, I don't think he has changed much. And he saw her as a challenge. But she wasn't easy… She was a very clever this girl."

"She kept her cards close to her chest, the little bitch," Millie let out.

She suddenly brought her hands to her mouth, as if she'd suddenly noticed she'd spoke out loud. She blushed, then Emma continued, looking amused.

"Indeed, I couldn't have said it better myself. She played him…She made him lose his head, the poor boy. He was going crazy trying to seduce her. And then, she gave in. He was so thrilled, but she kept at her little game. She was so demanding, you remember? And he yielded to all her whims. He took her to travel everywhere…"

Her eyes saddened.

"And then, one day, she left. No one saw it coming. From what I've heard, she was the one who denounced him, telling who knows what lies to the police. They turned up one day without notice, what a fuss! Fortunately, Master Malfoy had nothing to feel guilty about, but from there on, they wouldn't leave it alone."

Harry remembered McCarthy's rage, his obsessive desire to bring Draco down.

"A true witch hunt…." She opened her eyes wide, realizing what she had said. "If you'll allow me the expression," she offered with an apologetic air.

She resumed her story, "But try as they might, they found no evidence. We had to undergo their questioning, their inquisitions… It even went to court! Master Malfoy always went through it head held high."

She arose to put the chicken in the oven.

"But this blow shook him. He has changed a lot. After that, he brought here all those detestable young people."

"Rude people," Millie added.

Emma slammed the oven door.

"It went on for months. Oh yes, really, what a waste." She sat down. "Like Felipe." She specified, "He's the man who takes care of the maintenance and garden."

Harry remembered the man in the hut and made a slight grimace.

"A gorgeous young man, but cunning. I saw it right away. He has the devil in him, tried to seduce me too." She added, "Yes, it's the truth," as if the mere idea was ludicrous. Which in fact, with her loose tongue, she could be suspected of making anything up.

"Master Malfoy is probably with him as we're speaking… Hm, what a waste, really."

The idea that Draco could compromise himself with the man he hated put Harry off. He swept aside the jealousy that was threatening him and chose to play another card.

"With so many bad memories, it was really brave of Draco to stay here," he innocently asked.

"Oh no, Master Malfoy didn't stay long. He left with a real kafuffle actually, right after the scene with his father."

The word had been pronounced without a warning, thrown in the conversation, and yet, the earth stopped turning for just a moment. The words buzzed in Harry' head before he fully understood it. "His father."

His head snapped up suddenly.

"Lucius?" he said in a breath.

Millie looked at Emma as if she'd betrayed a huge secret and Harry knew, of course, that was the case. Draco never talked about his father. No one did. Harry just assumed he was dead.

Emma changed the subject to dismiss the issue, stammering, "And you… do you know Master Malfoy…I mean, do you… How did you meet?"

Harry strove to appear contrite and told her

"I see I've put you in a quandary. I fail to see the reason behind it, but if it really upsets you, we don't have to talk about it. It will be our little secret. But your stories are so captivating…"

Unfortunately, Millie, more perspicacious than her colleague, knew a smooth talker when she heard one and decided to cut his visit short. She got up, took the big bowl in her hands and told Harry, "Well, I think we're done. We won't keep you any longer."

Harry didn't insist. He thanked the ladies for their little chat and left the kitchen. Once in the hall, one thought plagued him: fingers crossed they wouldn't report their faux pas.

Harry entered at the living room looking about him. It all made sense now. The property probably belonged to Lucius. But where was he? And why all this secrecy? Apparently, Lucius hadn't set foot here for a while. Was his absence temporary? And what about his relationship with Draco? They didn't seem to be in touch, albeit Harry couldn't be certain of it. Neither Severus nor McCarthy had mentioned him. How come?

So many questions with no answers. Nonetheless, Harry felt like he had made a huge step. He knew Lucius was a key element in this story, if only in the enigma that represented Draco. He had to find out more, but he had no way of obtaining the answers at the moment.

Harry mulled all this over in his head, wondering what the others could be doing now. Oh yeah, Draco was probably doing that moron!  
_  
__- - - Draco and Felipe going at it on the cold ground of the hut.- - -_

_No, no, think about something else._

_- - - The dark hair splaying over Draco's soft skin. - - -_

_Stop._

Harry closed his eyes and decided to take another walk outside. The weather was still dull, but it at least it wasn't raining anymore. The humid herbs and the droplets falling from the trees were the only signs of the previous shower.

Harry headed to the lake with short strides. He caught sight of a long pontoon on the right and felt immediately attracted. His tread tapped against the wooden planks. He kept walking, eyes riveted on the horizon. Once at the pontoon's end, he hunkered down and sat, letting his legs swing over the edge, his feet a few centimetres above the water. He shivered under the cold wind then gazed at the water below his feet.

What should be the next move? How could he plan anything with this moody blonde? He had so much trouble understanding Draco sometimes. When he thought he made one step forward, he stepped back two. But this new conversation had cast a new light on Draco's past and given him more clues to investigate.

Harry was instigating a plan in his head when he heard footsteps behind him, the noise amplified by the wood. Harry braced himself for the encounter, and as expected, Draco opened the hostilities.

"So, tempted to end it all and jump in the water?"

Harry answered with a sneer and shot back, "What am I doing here exactly?"

Draco, still standing behind him, answered, "You complained about being put aside, and now you're not happy." He sighed. "We may have to spend time here very soon…" His voice weakened at these last words. "I'm just trying to integrate you into our little community. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Harry frowned.

"Funny way to do it. Tell me, you're sleeping with all your friends?"

Harry succeeded in unsettling the blonde who took a few seconds before answering, "I don't remember hearing you complain. After all, there's nothing wrong with having a good time."

"And you're not tired of all these faceless men?"

"Why, you're going to show off your second-rate psychology?" He took on a mocking tone. " I'm emotionally handicapped…" He put his hand over his heart and mimicked a sad pose. "I'm trying to run away whereas I should find someone to share my deepest thoughts, my laughter and tears, because it's by opening up my heart that I will find true happiness."

He adopted his usual cold expression and told him, squatting down next to him, "You want to save my soul?"

Harry turned his head away and snarled, sweeping this idea away, although, in truth, it found an echo within him. Draco talked into his ear.

"I may be a whore, but you're one as much as I, Harry. We take our pleasure where we can get it."

"You and me, we are nothing alike."

Draco snorted.

"We at least agree on one thing, there is nothing between us. We had fun, that's it…"

"Yes, that's it," repeated Harry dully.

There was just something about hearing Draco say this that crushed him inside. He knew it was just a game, but it hit a raw nerve.

A minute passed and Harry was expecting Draco to tire and leave but that wasn't the case. He heard his voice then, ethereal, almost unreal

"I used to love this lake… so peaceful, so vast… I could stay here for hours just contemplating it. I remember swimming to the other end of the shore one day. I wanted to know if I was capable of doing it. Since the day I made it, I never felt the same harmony again, never."

This tirade seemed straight out of a dream. The words had revealed something so intimate. Harry didn't understand what pushed Draco to confide in him like that.

The momentum was broken however a few seconds later when Draco said in a sharper tone than necessary

"Time to go inside. Dinner must be ready."

He motioned for Harry to follow him, but seeing Harry make no move, he insisted, "Come on, it's getting colder."

That didn't soften Harry either.

"Glad to see you're concerned about my health," he snapped.

Draco didn't enter the conflict. He threw something in the water before going back to the house, his footsteps slowly fading away. Harry's eyes drifted on the lake to watch the little daisy floating dolefully. In a different context, a different world, this might have been a sweet, romantic gesture, a flower Draco had left for him. But here, now, it reminded him of a funeral -some ominous, fateful sign.

An hour later, eventually driven away by the cold, Harry came back to the property to discover a nervous Draco speaking on the phone. Harry instantly felt something was off. The blonde hung up as soon as he saw Harry and threw an odd look at him. He moved toward the brunet a little too hastily, grabbed his nape and slurred

"Harry, Harry… Hmm, I want to fuck you. Now."

What had gotten into him? Harry never knew where he stood with Draco.

The blonde began to chew on his ear lobe. The delicious sensation, the blond strands caressing his face, Draco still made him weak in the knees. Damn him. But Harry wouldn't surrender so easily this time, he would make it hard for Draco. Harry wiggled out and yelled "Stop!" Undeterred, Draco kept grabbing him. It became oppressing, it was so unlike Draco. Then, the blonde took Harry's chin firmly in his hand.

"Come on, I know you want it."

Harry pushed him hard.

"Stop it! I'm not at your disposal, so cut it out! I don't spread my legs in a snap!"

"Could have fooled me," Draco retorted nastily.

"Go fuck yourself Draco!" Harry bit out. "I don't even want you!"

But Draco seized his arm, pulling the brunet right against him. This infernal circle had to stop.

"You're hurting me! Let me go," said Harry in a dangerous tone.

It seemed to wake Draco from his strange state. He loosened his hold and let out a dark laugh. Harry headed to the stairway, leaving Draco alone to pace around the living-room. Draco couldn't stand still, agitated and apparently upset. Observing Draco closely, Harry knew there was definitely something wrong with him. He was on edge.

Draco went round the room, sweating, looking feverish. If Harry didn't know better, he would have said Draco was under the influence. The blonde was mumbling now. Harry caught a few words

"… can't fucking stand this place…"

Harry heard a car driving up the alley. A few seconds later, Nott and Zabini crossed the threshold, grinning. Harry hadn't even noticed their departure. Draco threw himself in front of them.

"Where are you coming from now, huh?" he asked, a bit forcefully.

Zabini cast him a surprised look and it was Nott who answered. "A nice little bar. Very, very friendly." He laughed.

"You should have come…" said Zabini, "Alcohol was flowing like water." He eyed Draco again. "Hey, it would do you good to relax and chill out." He patted him on the shoulder. "We're not at the cottage, you don't have your little wife worrying at home. Pansy won't expect you till tomorrow, right?"

The two men were begging Draco with their eyes. Nott went as far as childishly pursing his lips.

Draco thought for a few seconds, messaging his nape, then he stopped, looked at the boys and rolled his eyes.

"Fuck it, let's go party."

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The club was noisy, the sound system at full blast. Impossible to talk to each other, even less to think. A few years ago, in this kind of situation, Harry would have been tempted to just let himself go and turn to his bad habits, but now, his position as an observer allowed him to keep his distance from this chaos.

From his seat, he was watching Draco and his friends dance without really moving, too busy spotting their next victims. Real predators under the violent strobes of the dance floor. Harry tried to keep his head clear, to see himself as a righter of wrongs, a defender. He liked this new role. He had missed the feeling of being useful, having a purpose. Being someone.

"Harry? Eh, long time no see!"

Harry whirled around and broke down instantly. Bloodshot eyes, an idiotic smile on his face, the man towered over him and took him in his arms. Harry didn't even remember his name. He had met him at one of Seth's parties.  
_  
__No, maybe one of his clubs.__  
_  
It was so distant now. On top of it all, the guy remembered him and Harry felt suddenly very uncomfortable, as if a part of him he had buried deep down inside him had been thrown in his face.

"So, man, where you've been all this time?"

Harry avoided his stare, the ghost from the past in front of him.

"Here and there. You know how it's like," he answered vaguely, having no desire to engage in conversation with him.

Harry nervously searched for Draco with his eyes. The blonde was flirting with a shirtless man, and Harry had at least the guarantee that he wouldn't catch him with his old acquaintance.

"Yeah, yeah, right," said Mr Anonymous in a monotone.

Harry turned his head completely away, giving the impression of observing the couples aside.

"Eh, you're a little tense man. You look like someone who needs a little downer. "

Harry turned back to him. In front of his eyes, an open palm: in it, a small pill with a black heart atop it. He had never seen this symbol before. A new drug.

He allowed himself to wonder what the effects would be. Would he feel this incredible lightness, this feeling of floating, this sweet euphoria? Would it be this tremendous need to get close, to touch the bodies around him, to melt with them, their skin so soft, warm and vibrant? Or would the heat invade him first, making him boil, breathing such power in him, he would feel almighty?

Suddenly, the chaotic atmosphere and the dancer's energy which he felt so far from became smothering, and his position of defender wasn't looking so pleasant any more. He felt the need to join all of them, to lose himself too. Their position out there felt more attractive.

Someone else eventually decided for him.

"Hmm… Nothing very appetizing tonight. You're lucky," said a very bored Draco.

Harry took no offence, crestfallen by the situation looming before him. Draco took his place beside Harry, paying no attention to the man in front of them.

The other man spoke first. "Hell of a party, yeah?"

Draco answered nothing and instead looked at Harry. His smile grew wide and he raised his brows, as if saying "That's what you chose?" This expression defused the tension and gladdened the brunet who smiled back at him. The other man might not be such a threat after all. Draco showed no interest in him and there was no reason for it to change.

Harry relaxed a bit and asked Draco in a lighter tone, "You're having fun?"

The blonde picked an olive from the cup in front of him.

"You're still hiding in your corner," he said. "It's really a bad habit."

The man next to them:

"The music's great, eh?"

Another olive, then Draco asked Harry, "You want to join us?"

Harry looked at him and nodded. They got up and began to move towards the crowd, but as soon as they took a step, the man called out, "Ok, well, see you soon then. Don't wait for years this time, yeah?"

Draco abruptly stopped and Harry couldn't hide his panic, his eyes wide open, frozen. Draco turned his focus to him and a Machiavellian smile crossed his face. He turned around and held his hand out to the man.

"Draco Malfoy."

The man shook his hand and gazed, enraptured by him. Catching Draco's attention was like having a spotlight in your face, it was dazzling. In his state, the guy didn't even think about presenting himself.  
_  
__Shit.__  
_  
At this second, the need to remember where he met the man, what he knew about him, became vital. But at the rate things were going, he would find out his name only when it was too late.

"We are always too hurried to jump on the dance floor. Let us take the time to properly become acquainted." Draco eyed Harry again and continued "After all, Harry's friends are my friends."

Draco motioned for them to sit. The man-with-no-name followed, but Harry stayed rooted to the spot, his body refusing to cooperate. He felt physically ill: his stomach was making knots and he was close to throwing up on the floor.

Draco, however, didn't allow him to linger. He stopped after a few steps and called out

"Harry, you're playing hard to get. Come on."

Draco held his hand out to him. Harry looked at it and took it reluctantly. The gesture that would be so pleasant in other circumstances appeared now like a death sentence.

Draco sat and motioned for the two men to settle on either side of him. He smiled, so self-satisfied, like a pasha on his throne. Harry sighed. It was going to be a long night. He placed himself to Draco's left, looking mortified, while the other man sat with a wide smile on his face, unconscious of the tidal wave he had provoked. Harry was sitting, his hands between his knees, face screwed shut, while the other man was bouncing on the sofa. Draco placed his arms around the new comer's shoulders and said to him, "So, you and Harry, you're old pals…"

"Mhmm…" he answered, his look oscillating from the left to the right, watching the dance floor, wiggling.

Draco pressed his shoulder to call him to order.

"So, you're old friends. It interests me." He bent over the man's ear and continued in a confidential tone, "You see, Harry is very secretive."

He tapped Harry's shoulder to tick him. The brunet swayed like a rag doll, livid.

"You know how he is always so discreet, always afraid to be a bother. You see, for example, he never mentioned you…" Draco feigned surprise and made a funny face. Everyone would have read through his game, but Draco knew this guy would just swallow everything he had just said.

"What's your name firstly?"

_The 100 points question._

Time slowed down. The moment was so crucial, and no one even noticed.

"Brett, but they call me Spill."

Harry's eyes widened under the realization.  
_  
__Brett Spillane. Spill.__  
_  
It was bad. Very bad.

"Spill. So, tell me about Harry and you?"

"Oh, we had a blast, we tripped all the time! Harry was our little treasure."  
_  
__Not this.__  
_  
Spill looked at Harry who was trying to hold his words back with a sharp look, his knee trembling.

Harry didn't want Draco to hear anything about this period of his life. Draco probably knew certain facts, but the details, it was the details that made his story so sordid.

"Harry burnt the candles at both ends," the other continued. "you should have seen him, he tried every drug, every bed, always ready to party. And always with this innocent air. Fuck, that's the craziest part! After all we did, man, he was always the little angel."  
_  
__- - - The yellow elastic snapping on his arm. The flame of a lighter under a spoon. The syrupy liquid boiling. The little pain of the needle. Warmth. Appeasement. Ecstasy.- - -__  
_  
Draco smiled and turned quiet, letting the flow of words reveal the secret life of Harry.

"He was so eager to please. I don't know… it was like he was trying to forgive himself for something, you know…"

_How this loser of a junky ended up fathoming out so much?_

Draco stared at Harry intrigued and playful. "And what were you trying to expiate exactly?"

Harry shook his head. In spite of himself, his mind plunged back to this life he'd left behind.  
_  
__- - - A hand on his shoulder that tightened hard. "I love your mouth. I want to feel it down there. - - -_

Spill's voice again, "Everybody loved him. Well, could also be the fact that he was always the one to find the dope, bring back clients, like a magnet man. He looked so pure."

_Shut up, shut up._

_- - - The smell of tobacco and aftershave. "Come here, I want to test the merchandise."- - -_

"He was so sensitive… Lenny took him under his wing. You know he's in Liverpool now?" he added to Harry."

_- - - The sample soaps. The white towels, freshly laundered. "A double room__, just__ one__ night." - - -_

"Harry was his favourite."

Harry tried to get out of his trance to deny everything, eyes dulled by the physical pain he felt with the simple evocation of that period.

"Cut the crap…" he said weakly.

Spill's voice, again and again: "He had a thing for the leaders, I guess he felt safer with them."

Harry systematically shook no with his head.

Draco had grown reticent, hesitant to intervene. He had withdrawn. Somewhere in the conversation his interest had turned into something else.

_No. Not pity, anything but pity._

"You remember our parties in Brixton. Fuck, good times. Coke and sex. It was wild."

_- - -"Fuck yeah. You're a great piece of arse. Right Jerry, I told you he was great." Numb. Black hole.- - -_

Harry got up, barely standing on his feet. He had to get out of here.

He thought he saw Draco's hand rise, then headed to the dance floor staggering, bumping everybody on his way, rushing blindly, looking for an exit, any way out.

He found a door and crashed through it with his shoulder, landing in the back alley, a dark path next to big dumpsters. His stomach turned and he threw up everything he could, the gag reflex bending him in half until he was dry heaving. A girl pressed against a wall by some guy, her clothes in disarray, detached herself from the wall and threw him a disgusted look. Harry wiped his mouth on his sleeve and made out Crabbe just in front of him.

_Fuck, not a moment alone._

He crouched down against the wall, head between his knees, acrid breath and his head ready to explode.

_Calm down, breathe. What are you doing, huh? It's all behind you. It's not you anymore._

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The return passed in a big blur. The city lights. Draco's soft voice.

Once in the villa, Harry stayed standing in the living room, muddled. When had this day turned into a nightmare?

When Draco came close, he realized the others were already there, lying on the couch, their snores filling the room.

Draco stared at Harry, looking worried.

"Harry?"

He motioned toward a door next to the library with his head. Harry followed him.

Draco took a key out if his inside pocket and opened the door. Harry found himself in his study for the first time. The bright light assaulted him on his entrance. Draco turned it off and lit the reading lamp on his mahogany desk. A few papers were scattered across the desk but the room was tidy, the cupboards closed. Everything seemed well protected. Draco sat on his leather armchair and signalled Harry to take the seat in front of him, but the formality of the situation didn't suit Harry. It felt more like he was back in McCarthy's office for an interrogation.

Harry's eyes were lifeless and his face pale. He hadn't got over the party yet. He didn't feel well at all and there was no way he was staying here long in such a state. He stayed in front of the closed door. Draco's look was patronizing and behind those grey eyes, Harry could discern… what? Pity again.

Draco began to speak with an affected voice that was supposed to be reassuring

"Harry, you know, you can… "

Harry cut him dryly, looking him straight in the eye.

"You don't know me. Don't presume that you do! All you know is the ravings of a shit-faced guy I knew years ago. Don't think you saw a piece of my soul or another shit like that."

Draco lowered his eyes, and even then, he still had this condescending attitude, this look that screamed "Poor Harry, you can deny it all you want, we both know I saw through you".

_You can all go to hell._

Harry ran a hand through his dark locks, as he usually did whenever he was nervous, and added to avoid a further conversation

"Believe what you want."

Draco arose then and calmly told him, "Harry, this is not an ambush, I just want to help you."

Harry stared at him. Draco's face was so open at this moment, his concern obvious. Suddenly disconcerted, Harry softly said

"I know."

Draco continued, "It was a..." He frowned, titling his head and, for lack of better words ended: "busy day."

He took off his jacket and, without thinking, put his hand in his inside pocket and took a black notebook out. Harry didn't miss the gesture as Draco was looking at the shelves in front of him, eyes clouded.

"It didn't go as I had planned. I shouldn't have insisted with my questions back there."

He put the notebook in his desk's right drawer.

"It was uncalled-for of me. I don't know what I was trying to accomplish like that."

Harry followed the notebook to its destination with his eyes and, whereas somewhere in his mind he was touched by Draco's words, his attention was still focused on the information he could get out of this little object. Defence mechanism, instinct, whatever.

He looked at Draco who was waiting for an opening, a sign that Harry had forgiven him. After all, it was Draco, and if he were not mistaken, the blonde just apologized to him, and in the most sincere way.

"I'm tired. I'd better go to bed."

Harry knew that it was not what Draco had expected, and that he was putting an end to what could have signified a new beginning for them. But at this moment, he just didn't have the strength to handle that. He just wanted to seek refuge in his room, let himself fall asleep and forget it all.

Draco tried to hold him back with his eyes, but Harry closed the door, leaving him alone to brood over the events of the day.


	11. Taking the Plunge

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The great Avenalanon. Any mistake left is mine.

* * *

**CHAPTER 10 : TAKING THE PLUNGE**

**May 20, 2004**

Harry ignored Flint's persistent looks and Draco's attempts to make him talk. What happened at the club had marked him.

At night, he would wake with a start from nightmares, bringing him back to another time. He saw those hallucinated nights in which he would wake up with complete strangers, the dull looks and tired faces of the wizards, their tears, their cries, the black hole. Voldemort sprung out and smiled at him as though he were on his side, congratulating him: "Harry, I'm proud of you. I couldn't have done better… ", his snake tongue wiggling in a sadistic laugh.

When he had found himself amidst the dazed families, leaving behind only ruins and desolation, Harry had felt nocomprehension,no anger, nor sadness**. **Only an enormous weight on his shoulders. He was the one who was supposed to save them, but instead, he had destroyed their whole world, all of this had been his fault, one way or another. He had sparked off this chaos, and there was nothing he could do to make it better.

He had reduced himself to nothing under his own will. These dark years, he embraced them without hesitation. Throwing himself into the nightlife had been the only way to empty himself of the guilt, to leave the past behind by forgetting himself. Good bye Harry Potter.

It was the aftermath, this wake up call that had been so harsh. The downfall. A mere acquaintance, a reminder of the past and the floodgates opened. He had finally looked behind, and what he saw was still so cruelly shameful.

Harry walked around the rooms like a ghost. Draco allowed him space. He had quite obviously relaxed the conditions of his stay. Harry could now freely move about, but the rooms that were forbidden to him stayed locked up. Crabbe and Goyle allowed him more freedom, even though he knew they were never veryfar away. It was second nature for them. Even Pansy left him alone. She came to see him from time to time, but less frequently. She had probably seen in him the darkness she feared so. Harry was glad she kept her distances. He felt as though he might explode and he was afraid he might hurt her.

He had managed to retain his composure until that Thursday afternoon, on which Flint came down hard on him, blind sighted. Harry was shoved against a wall in a small alcove, sheltered from view. Flint ground the words out from between his teeth, the harshness of his tone compensating for the dangerously low volume of his voice:

"Potter, are you going to fucking wake up ? You know I'm leaving tomorrow and you still haven't tried a thing. Get a grip on yourself, you know this is big, we can't fuck it up!"

Harry averted his eyes, annoyed by this burst of anger.

"Quit it, I don't take orders from you !"

"No, you take them from McCarthy, and it comes to the same thing."

Harry sighed with a jaded stare.

"Can't you see I'm not up for this,"

"Why? Then I was wrong about you ?"

Harry lowered his eyes. Their talk promised to be unpleasant.

"The fearless Harry Potter, jumping ahead of danger without a look behind, huh? The valiantwizard where is he now ? Was it all a hoax ?"

Harry's face hardened.

"Stop it, I get it !"

"No, you don't. I know something happened, but you have to let it go. Don't forget why you're here, ok?"

He gripped Harry's nape and told him forcefully:

"I count on you."

Harry looked at him and considered his words with attention. He remembered this blissful feeling, just before everything crashed down again. His goal, his mission, finally a meaning in all this emptiness. A little light in the eyes, warmness in the pit of the stomach. He felt the ball inside slowly fade away. Yes, he had to get over this. He had a mission to accomplish, something he could control. People were counting on him.

He looked at Flint, his green eyes suddenly vibrant.

"Alright." Flint opened his eyes wider, as if saying "are you sure ?" and Harry confirmed : "Really, I won't disappoint you."

Flint gave him a light punch on the shoulder and tousled his hair. Harry smiled to the friendly gesture.

Ready or not, he had to take the plunge.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The sun was back like a sign of renewal, at least, that was how Harry chose to see it. Pansy sat on the couch in the living room, a magazine in hand. Flint was facing her on the opposite couch while Zabini was on the phone, further away in the garden. No sign of Nott.

Harry threw an intent look at Flint. The latter observed Pansy who was too focused on her journal to notice anything, then he quickly tilted his head in the direction of Draco's study. Harry answered him with a nod and headed to the door. He knocked twice.

"Yes ?"

Harry entered and Draco arose unconsciously from his chair before sitting down again.

"Harry ?" He didn't add anything, letting the brunet the occasion to express himself.

Harry sat on the chair in front of him and said in a soft voice :

"I wanted you to know that I don't blame you."

Draco relaxed in his chair, all ears.

"My past is what it is, I can't disavow it. I have moved on. Now, I don't want you to judge me based on what you heard last night."

"It's never been my intention."

"Good."

Draco ghosted a smile.

"I'm glad to see you. I wanted…"

His words were interrupted by a high pitched cry: Pansy.

Harry turned around, looking surprised as Draco threw himself out of the door. Without a moment's thought, Harry jumped behind the desk and opened the right drawer to pick out the black notebook.

From his position, he couldn't see what was happening in the living-room, only a piece of Pansy's back. The girl seemed to be prey to tears. Draco's voice suddenly turned very loud : "… lost your mind !", then Flint's calm voice.

Harry leafed through the notebook, looking for the date.

_The 30th, 30th, 30th…_

His hands were shaking, he didn't know how long he had ahead of him. Probably not much, it sounded like things were coming back to calm next door.

He flipped the pages and finally came upon the right one. No horary, just a word: "Dawn".

Was it the time of the meeting ? A first name? Or maybe the name of a place?

He kept on flipping through the notebook and looked on the thumb index to the letter L. He looked down the page written in thin tight lines, dozens of nameswritten down.

Harry heard someone walking up the stairs.

_Shit. _

Didn't matter, he had to find it. He finally put his index finger on the name, a smile on his lips.

"Lucius, here you are," he said in a whisper.

Crossed out addresses in France, Switzerland, Germany. Next to the places, interrogations: "Arrived in March ?", a few "no" next to several cities, as if Draco had tried to track his father. The last line indicated: "Glasgow?"

_Wham!_

Harry suddenly lifted his head up. No, the noise came from a door slamming upstairs.

Harry didn't push his luck and put the notebook back in the same position he had found it. The moment he came near his seat, Draco crossed the threshold. Harry held his breath and tried to keep a relaxed posture. He talked right away, not letting Draco find the time to think.

"I don't think now is a good time to have this conversation."

Draco took a second to react, a second that was enough to put doubts in Harry's mind.

_He noticed. _

Of course, it wasn't normal, he should have gone to the living-room to see what was going on.

Draco said then:

"Just a crisis with Pansy, but it's over. You can stay if you want."

But Harry wanted to leave the room as fast as he could.

"You'll understand I need a bit of time of my own at this moment."

Draco pinched his lips tight and softly answered :

"Of course."

But the blonde blocked him the door before he could leave.

_It was too good…_

The blonde scrutinized him then said :

"I don't want you to feel like a prisoner here. I haven't been fair to you and I plan on making it up to you."

Harry sure didn't expect this. He blinked a few times then frowned a second, dubiously, and said, deliberately laconic :

"Thanks."

With that, he left the room. Draco watched his back a few seconds before closing the door. The noise signified Harry's freedom. He let go of his breath and closed his eyes with relief.

There was no one in the room anymore. On the coffee table, the magazine in ashes. Pansy had to have a good scare. The plan had been to create a diversion. Apparently, Flint had been heavy handed. He had gone straight ahead and set the girl's paper on fire. With one of his cigarettes of course. Unbelievable.

Harry went upstairs, sure to find Pansy in his room.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**May 24, 2004**

For two days, Harry had put any obstacle possible between Draco and himself, spending all his time with Pansy and avoiding every occasion to be alone. He played indifferent, giving little to no attention to Draco's words or actions. However, their furtive glances didn't escape the gang, and Zabini made every attempt to tease Draco about it. It always ended with a rebuff from Draco and Zabini's laughter.

That Monday, Harry found himself in front of a kitsch retro restaurant with lively background music and decor straight from the fifties. The place was nearly dead.

Before entering, he had spotted, just next to the restaurant on the same sidewalk, a little kiosk that was calling his name. He was so close, but he had to find a way to get there. He needed to convey his report to McCarthy's contact. This would prove difficult with Draco and Pansy on his heels.

The owner, a little bald man with a moustache, gave them warm greetings. Of course, Draco had picked one of the usual places. The man was at his beck and call : the way he looked at Draco, overlyexaggerated and far too politely mannered.

A long table in the corner of the room. Empty plates, three cups of tea, a hot chocolate. More than an hour hadgone by. Draco, Pansy and a guy named Samuel, "Sammy" for man was wearing a leather jacket and a tee-shirt with the logo of a rock band Harry had never heard of. He seemed energetic and crafty. A bit of a scrapper. Draco and he seemed to know each other well, very comfortable with each other and unaffected, like old friends talking, although their discussion was anything but anecdotal. After going over their last tricks, Draco put his cup down and said suddenly very serious :

"I want to do the cleaning up at Ellis', the radical way. And soon."

Harry was surprised by this sudden turnaround. Draco wanted to whackEllis?

"Yeah, but you do realize it's not a matter of four guys, I need more men. And if you want to do it quickly, the price will rise," answered Sammy.

Draco smiled at him, probably used to his ways.

"You're haggling ? With me ?"

"Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. I like you, but I'm no dope. You're not talking about a petty theft or something. On this one, there's going to be considerable risks. But you know me, I never say no to a dare." He chuckled. "I'll do a clean job, you know that!"

Draco's eyes were twinkling. He was relaxed and despite their somber talk, Harry couldn't stop noticing the way Draco's face shone when he just let go.

"Ok, ok, I won't argue. You can take three more men, not one more. Trustworthy men of course. At your price. We'll pull a plan together and you just tell me what you need."

Harry knew he couldn't disclose this information to McCarthy now. Draco was obviously acting rashly, he would surely realize his folly. Harry couldn't make any hasty decisions. He needed to talk to Flint as soon as he returned.

He watched the two men talking while Pansy played with her dessert beside him. He decided to put in his two cents.

_Go, time for you to play ball._

He spat, intentionally spiteful :

"What are you trying to do ? If you want to double-cross Ellis, you're really crazier than I thought." Strangely, his irritated tone sounded like one of a neglected lover. "You think you're invincible now ?"

Draco was taken aback and looked at Harry as though he had crossed some sort of imaginary boundary. He said as a warning:

"Harry…"

The brunet continued, crossing and uncrossing his arms, his look harsh, playing the anger card:

"Really, you're going to play the mercenaries ! Let's shooteverybody and take off with the loot. That's nonsense! There must be rules, right? Even for you, there must be… You don't decide on impulse to eliminate public enemy number 2, a guy who probably has a top security system and contacts in every corner… And this…"

"Harry…" Second warning.

"… on a simple whim. Isn't it a bit suicidal ! You're heading straight for a massacre!"

"Harry, shut up!" exploded Draco jumping from his chair, hands flat on the table.

Sammy remained stony-faced – he knew to mind his own business - while Pansy seemed panic stricken, twisting the tablecloth with her dainty hands. Harry reclined on his seat, at the other end of the table. He saw there the perfect overture and said in an outraged tone:

"Ok, if you take it like this," and staked his all. He pushed his chair back, making it screech on the floor and nimbly got up to walk out the door. He moved as in a trance, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his walk regular but hasty. He crossed the door as Draco called him again :

"Harry !"

As soon as he was out, Harry made a sharp turn to his left to avoid being seen by the restaurant's window and to get far from the car where Goyle was patiently waiting. The moment he was out of sight, he rushed to the kiosk, heart bolting, and forced himself not to run. He couldn't draw attention to himself. He finally reached the kiosk but tourists were crowding together at the turning racks with postcards, key rings and other souvenirs. Harry tried to clear a path, eyes venturing toward the restaurant 's door, terrified at the idea of being caught before having delivered his message.

How much time had passed? How much?

He had the impression that seconds were flying past. In his panic, he unceremoniously pushed an old lady who blocked the way. He looked at the counter, but saw nothing but stickers and chewing-gums. There was no one in the little booth.

_Shit, I can't believe it!_

There, he let the fear invade him. Everything was ganging up on him.

He was now just in front of the counter. He thought a moment to leave the note inside the booth, but what if it got lost? The idea to dump his precious information like this didn't enchant him much. He squeezed the piece of paper in the palm of his hand, the little square all crumpled now. Just as he was about to lose hope, a head protruded from under the cabin. A gruff man muttered something like "Damn tourists… " and in his hand, the providential steel box of a lively red colour. Harry found his breath back and dived on it straight away, inserting the paper in the little slot. He didn't even have time to make eye contact with the man. The moment the note fell inside, Harry literally tore himself away from the kiosk, escaping from the compact mass in front of him… just before a hand came crashing down his shoulder, pulling him into the middle of the sidewalk: Draco.

_No !_

All the color drained from Harry's face. Had he seen him ?

Draco looked at him with dark eyes.

"What the fuck are you playing at ?"

Harry had no time to dwell on it, he had to allay suspicion. He improvised with verve :

"Why, did you expect I would quietly wait for you in the car ? I'm not your dog !"

Draco wringed his arm with anger, even if his voice was relatively controlled:

"You had no right to talk to me like you did. Especially in the presence of Sammy and Pansy. It was a meeting, and I thought you'd be mature enough to stay in the background."

"What about Pansy ? Was it my idea to bring her here ? You let her meet this… mercenary. I thought you wanted to protect her from that!"

"She only knows I'm in business with him, and you just throw this ideas of… of danger and slaughter !"

"Let's be honest, Pansy's not stupid. She sees clear through your "deals". Might as well play it straight."

"It's not up to you to decide."

Draco tightened his hold on his arm. Harry grimaced and wrenched himself out.

"Fuck, what's your problem ? You don't have to order me around or give me the runaround. I'm free, right? Isn't thatwhat you said? So leave me the fuck alone !"

Draco cast his eyes downwards, still calm. Harry had lost his temper without even knowing why. He had wanted to cover his flight in the first place, but the escalation in anger had been fast. Draco had a way of making him fly off the handle.

Harry huffed again and again, watching people by-pass them on the sidewalk. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at Draco with his big disenchanted green eyes.

Draco seemed to read in his eyes and suddenly took his face between his hands to calm him down. Harry shivered.

"Harry, it's okay."

The brunet blinked, his face undone. Draco looked at him without feeling the need to talk. It was all in their eyes. Harry knew everything was alright. In those moments of harmony between Draco and him, their link was almost visible, and Harry felt like leaving everything behind and just huddling up to him. Draco put one of his dark locks behind his ear and kissed him without a warning. A kiss firm but soft. A perfect combination. The couple was entwined just near a group of tourists who started giggling. It was enough to make Harry break the kiss.

"Don't try to control me like that," he said in a low voice.

"Harry !" Draco lifted his eyes to the sky in a pure moment of exasperation.

Harry plucked up his spirits and said more firmly :

"And frankly, if you think I'm going to forget you're about to throw everyone's lives in danger with your feckless decisions…"

Draco cut him off then:

"I know exactly what I'm doing. I don't need you to tell me to take care of my team. They are all safe with me."

"No, you decided to strike a decisive blow, it's another story. You want to move things up, fine, but you can't change everything overnight. You can't rush like that, head first !"

"Is that so ? It reminds me, however, of a young boy I used to know."

A veil passed in front ofHarry's eyes and he couldn't find his voice for a few seconds.

"Yeah, well look what good it did me."

"Harry… » He sighed and kept on : "You know that despite everything that happened, I care about you… in my own way…" Draco turned away, looked in the distance and composed his face. " … but don't interfere in my business. I have come to include you in my world, but don't abuse my generosity." A pause. "I know what I'm doing."

He avoided Harry's eyes and told him, commanding :

"Go back to the car." Seeing the brunet's murderous look, he added : "Please."

Harry knew he had no alternative and headed to the Chevrolet. He settled inside and slammed the door. Goyle turned his head and Harry threw him a dark look. He wiped his forehead and his nape still wet with perspiration. In the wing mirror, he could see Draco in the middle of the sidewalk where he had left him, hands in his pockets. The blonde looked toward the car for a moment, then walked back to the restaurant.

Harry sighed. At least, he had done his part : the message had been delivered. He only hoped McCarthy would answer him soon. He remembered the exact words he had written in his note :

_A date : the 30th, a word : Dawn. No more precision. _

_Dissensions between Draco and the Elders. Competition with a certain Ellis. _

_Moving next to Reading's property. Lucius' property ? What role does he play in this story ? Why wasn't he mentioned in our briefings? _

_Next to Luc__ius' name, Draco noted : "Glasgow ?" Possible return of Lucius ?_

_I want news about Remus. How is the transfer going? _

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Back in the White Cottage, Goyle went out in the garden, hand on his earpiece while Draco headed to the bar. The blonde took a piece of paper out of his pocket then copied it in his black book. He threw the paper in the trash can and locked himself in his bureau. Pansy preferred to go to the library, looking for a book on the shelves. No sign of the others.

Harry was alone behind the counter. He stayed careful, watching the trash can in the corner of his eyes. He was afraid that someone would come downstairs unannounced. He was getting nervous, all the sounds in the room amplified in his ears : the tick tock of the clock on the wall, the fridge's buzzing sound, the footsteps upstairs and his heart beating like a tambourine. He poured himself a glass of water and quenched his dry throat. One minute passed and he told himself: "Here, it could have been done by now." One minute lost.

_Come on…_

He glanced at the library first, Pansy still hidden by the wall, probably reading, then he looked at the bin's retractable lid. He finally opened it and noticed that the bag inside was almost empty. He dived his hand, the piece of paper at the far bottom, surrounded by detritus. He caught it and unfolded it when he heard a click. He gulped.

Now was not the time to panic. Harry dropped the paper in the bin and turned around very slowly, hand slightly raised. His eyes widened in front of the unthinkable:

Pansy was pointing a gun at him, right in the middle of the eyes, twenty centimeters from him. She stared at him with merciless eyes and said:

"You weren't very nice. No, I can't let you get away with it."

" Pansy, what are you doing ?"

He tried to smile to her, but failed. He began to slowly lower his hands.

He shouldn't have. Pansy shot.

_Click._

Harry's heart stopped and a guttural sound, similar to an animal moan, came out from deep inside.

_Click Click Click_

Pansy pulled the trigger again and again, giggling. The gun was not loaded.

"You're dead !" she said with a big smile.

Harry looked at her, stunned.

"What ?"

Pansy scrutinized him and her eyes went from amusement to curiosity.

"You rifle through the garbage now ? Anyway, what were you looking for ?"

Harry was too shocked to think about her hidden accusation.

"Wh… What ? Nothing ! I… What are you doing with this gun ?"

"What, this?" she said, holding the gun as if she would a cookware, pointing it indifferently toward her head, eying at the barrel.

At that moment, Draco appeared and Harry braced himself for the scene about to come.

Seeing the gun in Pansy's hands, the blonde sped up and stood in front of Pansy with a hint of anger in his voice :

"Pansy, I already told you not to play with this."

Draco's reaction was so weak, so disproportionate… Harry couldn't believe his ears. He yelled :

"That's all you have to say ?"

Draco looked bothered, as if it was a simple mistake. He explained calmly :

"We always leave a gun in the living-room, just in case. We hide it well and we move it to a different place, but Pansy always manages to lay her hands on it. And we don't load it anymore, ever. The bullets stay in the box. It's just a toy for her. The other guns are always on us or locked away. There's no danger."

Draco seemed to think his explanation was legitimate. Harry stared at him with huge eyes, as if he were nuts.

"What the fuck is wrong with all of you ?"

He abruptly pushed Draco away and left Pansy, silent and confused next to the bar, to go upstairs.

"Fools playing war!" he mumbled before slamming his door shut.

Had Draco already killed someone, with his own hands? Was he capable of taking someone's life without a remorse? Was he really going to sign Ellis' death sentence without even being provoked? In that case, Harry would be just as merciless by association. No more doubt, no more guilty conscience. Draco was a gangster, and nothing more.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Two days had passed. Harry hadn't stopped pushing Draco away, and now, the blonde couldn't take his eyes away from him, as if he were longing for him. Harry was getting embarrassed about it. Of course, he would give in eventually, but under his own conditions. He wouldn't let Draco play with him like a common whore this time.

**May 27, 2004**

That Thursday, the weather was unusually clement in London and its suburbs. Draco took the opportunity to organize a pool party in the evening. This was a rare occurrence since Draco had always been adamant about the cottage being a place of business and not "some frat house." Harry saw in this sudden change the need for Draco to start afresh.

The guests swarmed to the living-room and the terrace. Nott and Zabini had fun jumping in the heated pool before the guests had put on their swim suits to splash them. Pansy had appropriated three deck chairs and aligned them so that she might lie across them. Harry knew she did it only to bother the guests, under the cover of her unstable personality. She was not stupid, far from it.

The party was well underway. Harry was a bit melancholic and the mood seemed surreal. He was there, sitting on a deckchair, and around him, people were playing, throwing plastic balls, bombing in the water.

He suddenly felt like seeing Ron and his family, wanted to hear from them and take them in his arms. Had they found Hermione? The searches had gone on for so long that hope was almost dead, but the Weasleys hung in there, again and forever. Ron used to say that if the worst had happened, if he had lost Hermione, he would have felt it, and as long as it wasn't the case, he would look for her until his death.

That's what real love was, wasn't it ?

Harry hadn't been very present in their lives, he was aware of it. He had the impression he had been constantly on the run since the big landing in London. After unfruitful researches, he had thought he'd lost all his friends, convinced that it was his punishment. He had holed up for three years in a big fog, and when his friends had finally found him, he'd had to run again with Remus and leave them behind. And now, back from the start. A new prison. Would he ever be free ?

Harry sat up from his deckchair, looked at the turquoise blue water and jumped. He touched the bottom and stayed there, in the middle of this ballet of legs without torsos gesticulating around him, the laughter and voice's vibrations. Little bubbles escaped his mouth as he let himself drift in the quiet murmur of the water and the fainted sounds above, the hypnotic , the need to breathe became imperative. He swam up with a push of the legs and was welcomed back by the decibels of the music and the clamor. He turned around and ran his hands on his face to take the water out of his eyes. There, in front of his eyes, a stilled silhouette was standing at the edge of the pool: Draco in a black swimsuit, his body svelte and his face fine-cut. Harry genuinely wanted to reach out for him. Draco was the only one he felt close to, the only one who could understand him right now. But everything was so complicated between them.

Draco was looking at him.

Harry stayed in the far corner of the pool, at the opposite side of Draco. He didn't trust himself enough with at this moment.

Draco took a step forward, and another one. He crouched down, put his hand on the wooden floor and graciously let himself fall in the water. He smoothed his hair down, wetting it on the way, his blond hair half plastered down, a few locks still falling over his face.

His eyes swept over Harry, his face like marble stone. A beautiful grey stare.

The shouting and the laughter around them were no more than murmurs, the sound of the water clapping against their skins. They were looking at each other from each side of the pool, a strong connection blossoming, the deathly desire behind their irises, searching deep in their souls. Their faces were serious : they knew something important was taking place. There was no one but them, drowned in each other.

Draco moved slowly in the water, coming closer. Harry stood motionless in front of him. The water was rippling softly around Draco's body, his eyes boring into Harry's. The guests were blending in with the background as they were nothing more but a vague décor. Harry and Draco were alone in the world. The anticipation was strong and Harry's heart was pounding wildly. His eyes shone under the intensity and the tension in the air. Draco was closing in on him and Harry's breath was coming shorter and shorter. The temperature was steadily rising. He felt he was boiling inside, and the soft sensation of the water against his skin wrapped him in this suffocating feeling a little further still.

Draco was now so close to him he could feel his breath on his face. From up close, his grey eyes were even more intense. The droplets that sprinkled his face and his torso slid and shone on his skin, and Harry had to keep from bending and lick them. Draco had cornered Harry and the brunet felt himself losing all control. It wasn't just lust, it was something else… He was so confused. Harry began panicking and he recoiled, the water suddenly blurring, the sound of the soft waves accentuating his flee movement.

He was the one who had to set the tempo, but here, he wasn't deciding anything anymore.

His back was pressed against the edge of the pool. No more escape. Both men were standing still and time just stopped. The water undulated between them. Harry shuddered, both expecting and dreading the next step. Draco slowly bent down as though he were trying to tame Harry, letting him the time to see him coming. His face closed the last distance separating them and his lips softly landed on Harry's. The brunet's face was timidly lowered, his body perfectly still. Their skins touched lightly, their cheeks delicately brushing against each other. Draco's lips caught Harry's once more and detached themselves only to come again more firmly. Harry closed his eyes and his mouth half-opened. Draco took advantage of it to slide his tongue in and suck Harry's sweet one.

Draco took his time. The flavour of a first kiss, tender, delicate and cautious. Harry tilted his head a little more to deepen the kiss, their tongues entwined. The blonde's hands hooked around Harry's waist under the water and his torso came pressing against his, their wet skins pressing against each other. Draco slowly put his legs between Harry's, the brunet moaning at the contact. Their two bodies seemed to merge, no more space between the two of them.

Harry and Draco didn't realize they had an audience next to them : their embrace became more intimate still and some guests were sending amused or lusty looks. The two men were too overwhelmed by their pleasure to pay attention. Harry was savoring the sugary taste of Draco's tongue, a taste of alcohol and caramel. _Baileys_. Draco gripped Harry's neck, pulling him a little closer. The gesture was possessive and Harry couldn't help but harden at the feeling. Desire was rising up and up, and quickly, they tried to get the most friction, their bodies sensuously sliding against each other in the water.

They only interrupted their kisses to take their breaths, unable to end their caresses. Draco couldn't hold it in anymore. He put his hands under Harry's bum and lifted him so the brunet could wrap his legs around his waist. In their posture, Harry's legs didn't go past the water level, but the way they behaved left no doubt about what was going on. Draco swiftly lowered Harry's short, sliding him just beneath his rump. Draco pushed him further against the pool's edge to get a good grip, then put his hand back against Harry's nape, burying his head against his neck before lowering his black swim suit.

Any moment now.

Harry's warm breath quickened against the blonde's neck. He was almost shaking, whereas Draco's gestures were confident and without hesitation. Draco positioned his cock at Harry's entrance and breached him slowly. Harry took a breath and closed his eyes tightly, gripping Draco's neck with all his might as the blonde penetrated him deeper still, his lips opened. Draco stopped moving, letting Harry accommodate his size, and he closed his eyes in turn under the glorious warm sensation enveloping him. He grunted in pleasure. Harry lowered one of his hands on Draco's lower back and pressed against him to signal that he was ready. Draco resumed his thrusts, coming and going, and coming again, softly first, and Harry whimpered under the feeling.

A few people got out of the pool at this moment and, alerted by the sounds of the water, Harry looked out of the corner of his eyes. Becoming aware of their situation, he muffled his cries, burying his mouth in Draco's neck. The latter tried to keep his movements discreet. It made the moment even more intimate, their bodies full of self restraint and their hands grabbing each other more firmly. Harry shut his eyes again, hanging on to Draco as if he were his rock. He felt so safe there, no harm could come in such arms. He tightened his hold against him, a tear rolling on in his cheek, merging with the drops of water adorninghis face. He wanted to melt with Draco, entirely.

Harry kept moaning and panting while Draco's breathing got heavier. The blonde started accelerating the rhythm, his thrusts sharper and stronger. Harry clung desperately to him. A moan, a thrust, a groan, a thrust, and Draco shot it all, Harry following him a few seconds after.

It had never been this strong, this powerful. Something had changed.

They stayed like this, breathing hard, little shivers running down their bodies. The air became fresher against Harry's humid back but the breath of Draco caressing his shoulder warmed him up. Harry lifted his head towards Draco and the instant their eyes met, reality struck him in the face.

Embarrassment. Confusion.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to feel… this… whatever he felt now.

He looked around him, a group of guests still in the water, in the other side of the pool in the distance, their voices coming back to his ears, little by little. His eyes couldn't fixate anywhere, he was so mortified by what he had just done. He had lost control.

Draco approached his hand to his cheek but Harry turned his face away. He quickly pulled up his short, put his hands on the floor and lifted himself up to cross the edge, the water dripping from his body. He left the courtyard with short strides, leaving wet foot prints with each step, and grabbed a towel on his way before crossing the French window. He didn't see Draco's despondent look follow him until he disappeared inside, nor his hand suspended in the void he left.


	12. Backdraft

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The great Avenalanon. Any mistake left is mine.

* * *

**CHAPTER 11 : BACKDRAFT**

Once awake, Harry dragged himself through the bathroom. He yawned, mouth wide open. In front of the mirror, he stayed still, his eyes dull. His reflection disappeared from his view while his mind wandered.

Harry was playing with fire. He was manipulating Draco and yet crushing on him as well. Nothing good could come of this situation. What was he thinking? That they could both run away on a beautiful white horse towards the sunset?

Record scratch.

No, no happy end in sight. A new image replaced the previous one : police sirens, hand cuffs and accusatory looks. Sighing, he put a hand in front of his eyes, pondering again.

When he looked up, Draco's reflection joined his behind him as though his dream had came to life. Harry frowned, staring at the angelic face in the mirror. He looked so real. Harry ran his hand over the mirror's surface, tracing the contours of the gorgeous face. Then he heard a laugh. Harry turned around and came face to face with Draco who was well and truly in front of him. Harry blushed and scratched his head, embarrassed for a moment. Draco looked at him sweetly, the corner of his lips curling.

"I knocked but you weren't answering,"

Harry let out an awkward laugh.

"I was lost in thoughts."

"Yeah, I see that."

Harry put his hands behind him, on the washbasin's edges. Between his washed out white Beatles t-shirt and his boxer shorts, he was suddenly very much aware that he hardly looked his best. Draco was wearing a black long sleeved t-shirt with dark blue jeans. Harry rarely saw him in such a casual outfit, but even so, Draco lost none of his elegance. Harry felt pale in comparison.

The blonde turned very serious then.

" I wanted to talk about last night," he said. "I know all this took an unexpected direction. I sure didn't plan this."

Harry shrugged, not very comfortable with this discussion he would have gladly avoided. He didn't know what to make of last night. It was so strange. He felt different, somehow more involved, but he couldn't get attached, right? He had a job to do. Yes, he had to put this behind him. It was nothing.

_Really? _

Draco's eyes wrinkled, scrutinizing Harry.

" I… " He exhaled loudly. "I don't know what's going on in your head… You're so slippery, secretive, temperamental, stubborn..."

Harry made a slight grimace. The portrait wasn't flattering. He saw where Draco was getting at. It was best to call it quits. It was the right thing to do.

" … and it's probably a big mistake…but I want to try."

Harry lifted his head, eyes wide.

"What ?"

"Yesterday night, it wasn't just a casual fuck, you know it as well as I do. That's why you ran away, hm ? "

Harry mumbled :

"I didn't expect… I don't know what possessed me."

Draco came very close to Harry who automatically let go the washbasin's edges, not knowing where to put his hands or to fix his eyes. Draco told him straight:

"Listen, when you showed up, I thought you'd came to bring me down, true to the boy scout you used to be. That was logical. But things are different now. We've been thrown into this new life, forced ourselves to adapt. And now, I know who you are. You're a lost, broken boy who tries to rebuild himself." A pause, the time for him to capture Harry's gaze. "And it reminds me of someone."

That was unsettling, so deep. Maybe Draco did indeed know him, and yet, he had missed a spot, a dark little stain: the threat. But Harry didn't want to dwell on it. Not when Draco was revealing his true colours. That was so unsettling to see him open up like that, like a surrender. And Harry liked this new man before him. His hands hesitantly gripped Draco's jeans, but when the latter imprisoned his chin in his hand, Harry decided on to put them on his waist, closing the distance between them. Draco lowered his head so his eyes were at level with Harry's, and told him in a breath :

"I see myself in you."

Harry bit his lip in an adorable way and retorted with a disarming sincerity:

"Doesn't it scare you?"

Draco smoothed down his dark hair and told him, without breaking eye contact:

"We'll take it day by day… No demands, just good times and crazy sex, hm ?"

Draco wiggled his brows in a suggestive way and Harry burst into laughter, surprised by his playful attitude. Draco smiled.

"You and me, it's both the most improbable and the most natural of things, no ?"

He approached his face from Harry and brushed his lips with his mouth. He added more pressure, taking all his time before plunging his tongue inside the sweet offered mouth. Harry shamelessly moaned and the delicious sound must have triggered something inside Draco, because the next moment, he caught Harry by the waist and pulled him against his torso, their arms intertwined. That's when someone knocked on the door.

Draco had to struggle to pull away, letting a little groan out and then shouting :

"Yes ?"

"Sir, your rendez-vous has arrived."

Draco sighed.

"Ah, Sammy. Always early…"

He kept Harry n his arms a bit longer and kissed him one last time, a brief wet kiss.

"Stay here, alright."

Draco let his arms go but Harry immediately reacted :

"I want to go with you."

"No, I'd rather you stay out of this," the blonde answered, authoritative.

"Draco !"Harry whined. But the blonde stayed firm.

"No, you stay here. Crabbe will come and fetch you when the way's cleared, hm?"

Harry didn't say a word, annoyed by this restraining order. He slammed the bathroom's door.

When would Draco finally let him in ?

He took off his clothes, entered the shower and put his head under the water jet. He ran his hand on his torso, his arms, then he cut short his movement:

Draco had just asked him to be his boyfriend.

It was a childish way to put it, yes, but it was accurate. So what now? Was that it? Were there new rules to apply? Would he sleep in Draco's bedroom?

Harry felt like a teenage boy. But he knew better.

_First and foremost, it's your passport for the gang's files and decisions. _

Because Draco would start to confide in him now. It was the plan after all.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

At the end of the morning, Flint was finally back at the cottage.

As soon as Harry found himself alone in the living-room, Flint rushed to him and silently guided him to the game room. He went to the pool table in order to keep up the act in case someone would join them.

Flint looked preoccupied, his brows furrowed and his stare worrying. Harry expected the worse. Was he bringing bad news ?

Flint removed the triangle on the green felt, took his cue and broke the rack, the multicolour balls scattering in all directions. One of them fell in one of the corners. Bent over the table, he said:

"I got McCarthy's answer. You're sure you saw Lucius' name?"

Harry answered, surprised to be questioned:

"Yes, I'm sure…"

Flint looked at him with insisting eyes.

"Did you look carefully at the dates ?"

Harry answered with an intent voice to put an end to his doubts :

"Yes."

But Flint didn't relent :

"Maybe, it was just old meeting places."

"I'm telling you I'm sure of what I saw! What's going on ?"

Flint scratched his neck. He was nervous and it was the first time Harry was seeing him so uneasy.

"It's nothing."

"Don't tell me this, I can see something's wrong. Lucius wasn't supposed to be around, is that it ?"

Flint sneered and kicked the ball. He missed the shot.

"Oh, he wasn't supposed to be here at all."

Harry let him go on, the confusion clear on his face.

"He died in a car accident more than two years ago."

Lucius was dead? This announcement only made Harry more puzzled.

Flint interrupted the game, cue in hand, and resumed :

"You see, a few years ago, Lucius was like a real Godfather. Draco's organization is nothing compared to what Lucius had built. He had managed to set up a huge criminal organization. He started strong, high swindles, forgery. His goal was to reestablish the wizard's supremacy. Even without magic, he didn't consider himself less pure or weak. On the contrary, it heightened his desire to get revenge with the muggles. It's him who built all this network : the alcohol smuggling, guns, drugs, it was all him. Where do you think Draco and the guys are coming from ?"

Harry tried to take all the new information in. His voice was weak:

"I thought it was Draco that recruited them ?"

"He had a little gang with Zabini and Nott, but things really took off when they convinced the Elders to join them after they deserted Lucius. Draco took up daddy's torch."

"Deserters ?"

"Lucius soon flipped his lid. He decided to move to a more radical method by purely and simply eliminating the muggles. He instigated the murderous bomb attacks back in 2001. And if there were former wizards among the victims, it was just collateral damages. He became paranoid, tyrannical, a real despot! From this point, his close associates got scared. They all dropped him one by one, and his kingdom collapsed. "

Harry was flabbergasted by these revelations.

"Why was this hidden from me ?"

Flint explained, visibly sick :

" Oh, that's the skeleton in the police forces' closet, McCarthy's great shame. Lucius had protected his business well. They never suspected him of anything. And when the attacks happened, Lucius put them on a false trail, an innocent man who fell victim to fate. He was given a life sentence. It made all the papers headlines. Big success. You must know who I'm talking about. So, you can see the big picture now."

Harry shook his head. Flint looked at him with disconcertedly.

"You were living in a cave or what ?"

Harry lowered his eyes and answered in a whisper:

"You could say that, yes."

Flint sighed and resumed his story, his dark tone back :

"Anyway, Lucius has been careless on his last coup and cops caught an accomplice who denounced him. Of course, they were in deep shit, especially since the man they wrongly accused took his own life in his cell. They couldn't tell the press: 'Sorry, we made a mistake, we killed the wrong guy, leaving behind him a widow and an orphan, but it's okay because now we know who did it.' So they hushed up the case and the official version stuck. Lucius had disappeared long ago, and the time they picked up his trail, Lucius was already dead. His body was found in his car, crashed on a bridge. A frontal shock, he was completely disfigured."

Harry gasped, looking like he just had a revelation.

"So they may have made a mistake when they identified him…"

Flint smiled, expecting the suggestion :

"Not with his micro-ship. Even if the tracers are deactivated now, they are numbered. And there's no way to remove them, you know that…It's just impossible."

Harry raised his voice, exasperated :

"I told you it was his name on the notebook. " He ran a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. "I don't know, maybe Draco's information is false..."

Flint shook his head. He lit up another cigarette and took a drag. Harry rested his hands on the pool table's edge and went on:

" … or maybe the dates mean something else…"

All of a sudden, Flint violently threw his cue on the table. Harry pulled his hands away instantly. He looked at Flint who was stamping his feet, head lowered. Flint took a few breaths and hold his palm out to indicate Harry it was alright. He calmed down and just said:

"I hope so… I hope so…"

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The next morning, Harry woke up in Draco's arms. He was finally inside his bedroom. It was spacious and simply decorated. The king size bed with its silk sheets and its night blue satin cover dominated the room, and a large mirrored wardrobe. Draco hadn't officially invited Harry to share his bedroom yet. They ended up there after wishing goodnight a bit too enthusiastically in the corridor. Despite everything, a boundary had been crossed again.

The blinds were half-opened and the light filtering through came flattering Draco's naked body, following the contours of his torso, the sheet carelessly draped over his hips, letting guess hidden treasures beneath. Harry put his head on Draco's chest, a smile on his lips, when he felt a fluttering under his cheek. Could he have woken the blonde ? He lifted his head and watched Draco with a mischievous air, but no, the blonde was still asleep. Harry traced with his fingers the thinly muscled torso, lingering on the nipples, then drew arabesques on his stomach, softly putting his hand flat against the skin, feeling the golden body slowly rise with each breath. He put his cheek back on the blonde's torso and listened to the regular beatings of his heart. He closed his eyes. The beatings quickened then and Draco's body twitched. Harry looked up : Draco half-opened his eyes and looked at him with a soft smile. He stretched his arms above his head, taking care not to dislodge Harry from him and mewled.

"Hi you," he said with a rasping voice.

Harry answered a little "Hi" and lifted his head to kiss him. Two little smacks. He looked at the blonde's face and brushed a few blond strands away, allowing himself to see his entire face. Draco barely blinked, not wanting to interrupt Harry's exploration.

Harry satisfied himself with this simple moment : Draco's face on the white pillow, offered to his contemplation, his grey eyes with no malice on them. Then, the small brunet closed his eyes and thought about the moment he would have to get out of bed, Draco's meetings, plans for the next day, and of course his implication in the situation. If McCarthy had discovered the meeting place and managed to intercept Draco, would he be locked up tonight? Harry was afraid of what the agent would make Draco endure once he would put his hands on him. He didn't like the way McCarthy talked about Draco, the hatred and the resentment. He knew McCarthy was making it a personal matter, and due to this, he wouldn't hesitate to abuse his power. Harry preferred not to foresee anything. Things were already on the move, he had done what he had to. There was no alternative. But would he recover from this?

Harry felt a hand on his cheeks and opened his eyes. Draco stared at him, looking concerned. Harry's worries must have showed on his face. The brunet relaxed and offered him a smile, then decorated his neck with small kisses. He brushed Draco's chin with his forehead then, before pulling away again. He laid on his side and put his elbow on the bed, head resting on his hand, his face turned toward Draco. The latter moved his head back to stare at Harry, eyes intense. It was strange, like a staring contest, except there was no awkwardness. They were just looking at each other.

Harry made no move, waiting for sweet nothings, a gesture, a caress.

Then, Draco bent over him and took his bottom lip between his teeth, softly biting on it. He let it go, staying close, and told Harry off the cuff, eyes piercing:

"Are you playing with me ?" Draco took the brunet's lip in his mouth again. "Hm ? Are you playing me ?"

Harry looked up, eyes still clouded with desire, and shook his head. He kissed him again, then managed to form a trembling "no", then another "no" before resuming the kiss by little pressures on Draco's lips, raising his eyes from time to time, slipping in and out, teasing him. Then, they started a languorous kiss.

"Hmm…"

Their mouths parted. Harry licked his lips, still dazed. Draco stared at him, eyes filled with desire, and tenderly rubbed his nose against his, initiating an Eskimo kiss, to finally drift away and capture his lips again. Harry wrinkled his nose and his childish antics made Draco melt. The blonde let out a sensual laugh and kissed him once more. He barely pulled his mouth away, whispering against his lips :

"Good…"

Their eyes were lost in each other. Draco looked at him as though Harry was something precious. It was so endearing. Harry blinked a few times and plunged a bit more into the grey orbs, waiting for something to break, for the blonde to reveal his true face, but nothing happened. Draco could be so surprising. A few days before, they were like cat and dog, and now, here they were, entwined like passionate lovers. Harry didn't know if Draco was so tender because he was trying to exorcize Astoria, or if his feelings were real. No matter. He was safe in his arms, and at that moment, nothing else was important.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**May 30, 2004**

Arms crossed, Harry made his knee tremble, his foot clapping on the dirty floor. He was seated on a tin chair next to three unknown men. They disposed their equipment on makeshift tables pinned against the wall: bottles with various chemical products, glass containers, metal barrels, tubes, a whole boiler system. A clandestine laboratory set up in haste. It was there that they would cut the coke and produce the methamphetamine and ecstasy. The big garage was humid and cold, and Harry couldn't bear the dreadful silence. He had been waiting for hours. Was it over ? Did McCarthy turn up and lock them out ? Maybe they had to raise their weapons and… No, it was best not to think about that. Patience.

Then, the heavy metal curtain opened, the noise like a monstrous roaring. It stopped at waist level. Harry jumped up and stood in the middle of the room. The Elders entered one by one, bending in half to cross the curtain, and Harry decomposed himself as their faces appear. They were looking furious, and it was obvious they were on edge. Draco, Zabini, Nott and Flint followed suit. They were all looking at each other with contented rage. Draco's face was completely shut, but Harry recognized his bad days' face. The moment the sheet metal bumped against the floor, they erupted:

"Fuck, we've been had !" - Nott

" No! No !... I knew it, it was just a matter a time… Overfuckingzealous cops!" - Zabini

" … " Flint lit up a cigarette with his zippo and spit on the floor.

"No way, uh huh, there's been a leak… Can't be a coincidence." - Rabastan

"Shit !" - Rodolphus

"We can't just stand there, we have to fight back ! » - Greyback

They were all pacing around the garage like electrical toys let loose in a shop.

"It's a no brainer, there's a mole, and we all know who it is !"

The last remark made Harry tense up. He met MacNair's enraged eyes. The man looked ready to kill him.

"You ! You turn up just like that, not one valid reason, and as if by chance, cops chose this night to control the docks and fall straight on our load. You're trying to screw us…"

Greyback added : " Yeah… it's you ! You'd better spit it!"

He began to move toward Harry, dangerously, showing his teeth. The brunet shook his head no. He wanted to run, but there was no escape. That was what he feared from the beginning. He braced himself, clenching his fists, but Draco came between. Greyback tried to push him away but Draco clasped his arm and presented him a calm and cold face.

"Greyback !" he shot, " Stop it right away! You don't know what you're saying."

"Oh yes, I know very well what's going on. This little prick ratted on us."

MacNair tried to win Draco to their side :

"You told us yourself you didn't feel him. Well, now we've got proof !"

Harry was standing in the middle of the room. He tried to shrink on himself, wishing the floor would open and swallow him now. He knew that if he defended himself, the others would redouble their accusations, so he just stayed there, looking at the Elders going to a tailspin, hoping things would cool down. Unlikely.

Behind, Flint said calmly :

"It was a control routine. It happens. We were out of luck, that's all."

MacNair retorted :

"Hold on, you swallowed this story ! They arrested Gordon, for fuck sakes! Gordon! A guy who's seen more police raids than any of us, not the kind to let himself get caught in a fucking control routine! Cops fall on the biggest drug delivery of the year perchance. Woah, Christmas has come early for them. Really, are you really a moron, or do you do it on purpose?"

Flint threw his cigarette on the floor and rapidly moved toward him, his look threatening.

Zabini yelled : " Wow, easy guys, we're not going to fight each other too!"

The two men didn't listen and Flint grabbed MacNair by his jacket. Draco was forced to intervene again and said with a strong and commanding voice:

"Stop it now ! Stop it !"

Flint listened to the boss, docile, and stepped back.

" Harry is with us, ok ?" Draco said.

MacNair bit his lips and turned around himself, fuming. He shook his head.

"Fucking kidding me..."

Greyback :

" You're fucking him, we don't. You got screwed, but we can think straight."

Harry winced. Shit, they knew and they were going to throw him out, or worse. The truth was exposed in this seedy garage, in front of everyone. Talk about drama.

Draco was pissed out now. He shouted :

"Say it again ! No, really, say it again to my face !"

He moved toward Greyback until his torso touched his, eyes in flames, both men staring at each other like animals measuring each other up, trying to impose their domination. Greyback sniggered and violently pushed him away. Draco kept on at him, stepping again right in front of him, and said, stressing each word, voice dangerously low :

"Harry. Is. With. Us. And if I gave him my trust, you don't have to question my judgement, is that clear ?"

Harry looked at Draco, eyes round. He hadn't expected to be defended with so much fervor. Draco was convinced of his honesty. Harry had achieved the unthinkable : Draco was sticking up for him against his team's opinion. He was saved.

Draco backed up and looked at the lot this time.

"Is it understood ?"

Greyback groaned and stationed himself at the other corner of the room, probably to settle his urges down.

MacNair didn't insist either but when he talked again, his tone was blistering:

"Ok so now what ? What do we do, _boss _?"

Draco didn't take up the provocation and said in a firm voice :

"The cops' story doesn't convince me either. But there is no rat in my side. No, if you want suspects, take Gordon's men, they could have double-crossed him. Wouldn't be the first time. But if you want my opinion, Ellis and his gang are behind all this." He shook his head, chuckling darkly. "Oh yes, with their eyes everywhere… they must be celebrating their catch right at this moment."

Harry watched Draco transform in front of him as his vision was taking form in his head. Draco's look became fierce and he began to pace in the room, his temper flaring.

"You imagine, the move of the century ! They're going to steal away all our clients! Really, well done Ellis."

He stopped and lifted his chin up, his look decided.

"We need to act."

Harry didn't want to hear the rest. When did it go off the rails?

_Not this. _

Draco tightened his lips and nodded, keyed up:

"We bump Ellis off. Tomorrow."

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The next morning, Flint and Harry met in the game room, as if they were resuming the party they started the day before.

"Last night, that was a close one. McCarthy really pulled it off."

" Hm…" Flint took off his cigarette and blew, "Thanks to you. 'Dawn', that was the name of Gordon's boat. A little police raid, and that did the trick."

"But McCarthy didn't bust Draco."

"I think he's waiting for something bigger."

Harry told him, as if thinking aloud:

"What can be bigger than this delivery, that was the most…" He stopped himself and his eyes widened. "A murder." He sighed. "And with Elllis' ambush, Draco's going to give him exactly what he wants." Harry rubbed his face, his features deformed under his fingers. "He can't do that, no way… They will all kill each other, it is madness ! It will end badly, very badly…We can't let this happen."

Flint laughed.

"What, you want to try and convince Draco ?"

Harry shrugged with a helpless air.

"He locked himself up in his room as soon as we got back. But we have to try and dissuade him. McCarthy, Ellis and Draco in the same fire line, it's not good at all."

Flint placed two balls on the felt. He hit. Nothing.

"It's not ideal, that's for sure. Plus, I must find a way to contact McCarthy this afternoon. I have an errand to do with Nott, I'll try to sneak out and call him in a safe place. It's an emergency, we have no choice."

Another hit. The ball entered the pocket.

Flint seemed so offhand, Harry was getting edgy:

"You're not listening! We've got to do something!"

Flint told him quietly, cigarette between his teeth:

"It might be hell, but that's not my problem. Just tell yourself that this time will be the good one. Mission over. We go home. Isn't that what you want ?"

"Yes, of course," said Harry without conviction.

He still had this fear that McCarthy would not fulfill his part of the deal and would leave Remus waste away in one of the Division's sections. And Draco? He would rot in jail, or worse get himself killed, and this, all because of him. And Pansy ? What would Pansy become ? Would she survive this separation ?

Harry lowered his head and asked, even though he suspected the answer :

"Did they tell you something about Remus ?"

Flint lifted his brows, surprised :

" Remus ? No..."

Harry uttered a little " Ah…"

Flint repositioned his cue on the baize and attempted another kick. The ball sank. It was a difficult shot : he made a victory gesture. Watching him play, Harry realized he knew nothing about him. He asked him very low, not wanting to be too indiscrete:

"And you, where's your home ?"

Flint straightened up and averted his eyes from the baize to answer him, a tad melancholic:

"I have an uncle in Crawley who puts me up, and I take care of my mother. She's in a clinic at Brighton not far away. It's been a while since I could visit her, you can imagine. It's just the three of us. So I can't wait for this to end…"

Harry used the turn of the conversation to ask a question that had been nagging at him for a moment now:

"Why did you volunteer?"

Flint answered simply, with tough voice and look:

"The sense of justice."

Harry had no time to dig further, because Nott suddenly made his appearance. He opened the door and said in a hurry:

"You' coming ?"

Flint stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray, put his billiard cue down and left he room in a flash. In the living-room, Zabini shouted; "You're pushed for time! Come on, we have no time to lose!"

The guys were ready to roll. You could feel the night's stake was huge.

.

When Flint came back merely two hours later, he nodded to Harry.

He had made it. McCarthy would act this very night. Draco and his team were heading to disaster and, faced with this OK Corral gunfight, Harry couldn't help but play the negotiator.

He walked upstairs and knocked at Draco's door. The blonde opened, Harry entered. Draco was on the phone, the conversation sprinkled with "ok" and "Hm".

As soon as he hung up, Harry attacked:

"Listen, it's still time to call it off ! This whole operation was set on a fit of rage. I know, your pride had been hurt, but is it worth declaring a war? You know you're better than this. Ellis is no match for you, you'll outrun him eventually, so stop this !"

Harry knew he was trying to sabotage McCarthy's plan but at that moment, he couldn't resolve himself to see Draco disappear yet. Not when his life was at stake.

Harry had made his speech in one go, and Draco had listened it, still and expressionless. Suddenly the blonde raised his chin and said:

"You're right, we call it off… I'll go meet the guys and tell them the new boss, Harry Potter, has decreed it was a bad idea, and after that, we'll all sit around the fire to smoke the peace pipe." He swung his arms to emphasize the ridiculousness of the picture.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Draco snapped, uncompromising:

"I won't back off."

Draco walked out the door but Harry ran after him in the corridor and jumped in front of him.

"Don't go ! You hear me, Sammy and his guys can handle it. You hired them, no ? So what will you do there?"

Draco answered with a cruel and disembodied voice :

"I want to see his eyes when they'll put a bullet in his head."

Harry frowned, horrified. Draco turned away to put an end to their conversation, but Harry called him out again:

"Draco ! Don't you see it's crazy !"

Draco moved toward him and expressed himself with more lucidity this time :

"Harry, listen, Ellis and I, we go way far. This bastard threatens my business since the fist days, and now, he's taunting me. He overshot the mark. It's him who declared war, not me."

Harry retorted in a decided tone, eyes shiny :

"In that case, I want to come with you."

He couldn't sit in the stands while hell was about to break loose. He wanted to be able to intervene if McCarthy went too far. And if Draco had to fall, he wanted to be there to see the end.

"No, it's too dangerous."

Rebuked by his words, Harry exploded:

"I'm not a kid ! You know it doesn't scare me !"

Draco approached him and looked at him straight in the eye.

"Harry, you're not coming, end of discussion." A little grin played on the corner of his lips and he said : "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, but meanwhile, I want to make sure you're safe."

Harry bit his lip and turned away, frustrated and torn apart. It was like two different voices were fighting inside of him.

He wanted to tell Draco : _"I'm sorry, it's a trap. Cops are waiting for you and they're going to arrest you", _but all he said was:

"Take care of yourself."

Draco smiled at him and answered :

"Always."

He dropped a kiss on Harry's lips and pulled away, but the brunet hold him by the nape to prolong the moment. Draco took his breath back, looked at him a few seconds then left without adding anything.

Harry stayed there in the corridor, the sensation of their last kiss lingering in his mouth.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry was worrying sick, pacing in the living room. Pansy looked at him go around in circles. The ambush had taken place and he was already expecting the worse. He couldn't bear to stay aside, he was always out of the action, waiting like a woman would wait for her husband serving the war. It was unbearable.

The phone rang.

Harry jumped and rushed on the receiver. Next to him, Pansy arose with a start, waiting for the verdict. The sound crackled, sounds of screech, voices rising, then Zabini's voice :

"Harry, take Pansy and get out of the villa, NOW!" Harry frowned. "We'll be at the front in thirty seconds."

Harry answered "Ok" but Zabini had already hung up.

Harry held out his hand to Pansy, simply saying : " Come!" He opened the front door and ran in the alley toward the portal but one of the security guys came in front of him to stop them. Harry began to explain the call, and the next second, they heard a violent braking sound, a controlled skid : Draco's Chevrolet appeared at the other side of the portal. In the front, on the passenger's seat, MacNair lowered the window and yelled :

" Mark ! Let them out !"

On the alert, the man turned around, nodded and opened the door.

Pansy was disoriented and pulled on Harry's hand. Harry turned to reassure her but MacNair shouted: " Move it !". Behind him, Rabastan opened the door and Harry took Pansy out of her torpor by a kiss on her forehead.

"Everything's fine, follow me."

As they hastily climbed in, MacNair threw at Mark:

"Might get nasty tonight, get your men and be ready. We're on red alert."

The tires heated up again and the car sped down the road.

Harry was squeezed next to Rabastan and Zabini on the backseat. Pansy was seated on his knees in lack of place. She turned her head toward Rabastan and whimpered, burying her head in Harry's chest. Harry looked at the man and saw the dark red gash along his leg. Big drops of sweat were running down Rabastan's pale face. Zabini was in a far better state but his face was tense and his clothes rumpled. On the driver's seat, Goyle had scratches on his face and hands, and next to him, MacNair had a big red stain on his shirt's sleeve.

"What happened ? Where's Draco ?" Harry asked, panic-striken. He already had a little idea about the turn of events and he was afraid to hear bad news.

Zabini answered him :

"We've been fucking done again. We got snipped at the second we put a foot down."

"The cops shot at you ?"

"What ? No…. Ellis and his hunchmen. They knew we were coming and they brought out the big guns. They were everywhere. We had no chance. We managed to shake them off, but it was close. The fuzz arrived after the party this time."

_Can't believe it, how could McCarthy blow it?_

"We were taken by surprise," Goyle added.

"Where's Draco ?" Harry asked for the second time.

"We've been separated. They smashed the other car. With the crossfire, we had to leave the others behind. They must have taken another direction."

"But you know if he's okay ?"

Goyle shook his head :

"I can't get him on the phone."

"Where are we going ?"

Harry was heaping questions on them without even noticing it, avid from information and drop-dead worried.

Zabini answered :

"Reading's property. The emergency plan was to tear along there, and not forget about Pansy and you."

They arrived a few minutes later.

Two men in black let them pass the heavy gates. They drove up the alley and got off the car. From the windows, the house seemed empty, except from a few men in black grouped around Crabbe inside.

Suddenly, Pansy began to giggle, crying with joy, and rushed to the pontoon. There, a tall silhouette with blond hair. Pansy threw herself at him.

Harry felt a weigh lift off his chest and in a dazzling impulsion started to run in turn toward Draco. He smiled and slowed down when he arrived in front of him. Draco put Pansy down and grabbed Harry by the neck. Harry clung to him with all his might.

"I was dying with fear. I thought they…" He couldn't finish his sentence.

"What ? Me ?" Draco joked, but there was sadness in his voice.

Harry laughed for good measure but he looked Draco straight in the eye. He asked in a serious voice:

"How could that happen ? How could they know in such short delay?"

"Ellis has ears everywhere, I already told you. I should have listened to you…"

Harry took Draco's arms and the blonde winced, greeting his teeth.

"You're hurt ?" Harry asked in a high pitched voice.

"Just a scratch."

Draco put his hand behind his back for Harry not to worry more. He put his other arm around the brunet's shoulders, Pansy hanging to his waist on the other side. Harry looked all around. In front of the house, he caught Rodolphus in a brief embrace with his brother.

"Where's Flint ?And Nott ?"

"No idea, we split in the middle of the road… I just hope they're safe."

"They may already be on their way," Harry said in a reassuring voice.

Pansy shyly asked :

"Do you think we're safe here ?"

Draco kissed the top of her head.

"Don't worry, hm ?" He looked ahead of him and went on : "They won't suspect we're here. Nobody can imagine I would come back to the property…"

Always this noun : "the property", as if it wasn't his own. The quarrel between the father and the son, and Lucius' escalation into madness had definitely driven Draco away from the house. Until the last few days…

"… and the security is still impeccable. With the men I brought here last month, we have more chance to come out of it here than anywhere else. "

Had Draco anticipated Lucius' return and reinforced the security to that effect, or did he have other plans for the house ?

The three took refuge inside with the other survivors. As they were crossing the threshold, Pansy added :

"But nothing's going to happen, right ? They won't come to catch us, right Harry? You won't let them."

Harry smiled the best he could.

"Yes, Pansy."

.

An hour later, gun shots, sounds of broken glass and cries would prove them wrong.


	13. At Hell's Doors

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The great Avenalanon. Any mistake left is mine.

A/N: I hope you all had a great Christmas! And here's a pretty dark chapter for these joyful days.

* * *

**CHAPTER 12 : AT HELL'S DOORS **

Harry was in a room with Pansy in the first floor. Laid on the bed around a set of cards, Harry tried to explain to Pansy how to play War, but she kept playing by her own rules. Harry paid no mind to it. He was unable to concentrate on the cards, his mind focused on the Ellis situation. Pansy spoke to him but he just nodded his head or "hmm-ed", brows furrowed and eyes vacant. Pansy soon noticed and abandoned the cards.

"Are you afraid?" she asked.

Harry's head jolted as if she had woken him up. He answered looking at her in the eye:

"I just want this night to be over."

Pansy naively said :

"You're with us, nothing can happen to us."

Harry looked at her and added, whispering :

"We all have our weak points. Me, I've got tons of it."

Pansy stared at him with confusion.

"Oh yeah, which one ?"

Harry preferred to defuse the question on a light tone. He patted the girl's nose with his index and said to her:

"Well, you for example."

He smiled at her and she giggled. His face turned serious again and he looked elsewhere.

"Draco too…" He kept his eyes down,"… and a lot of ghosts."

"Ghosts can be strong points too…" Pansy said with a childish voice.

She plunged her hand inside her floral blouse and took out a thin chain with a locket at the end. She opened the clasp and gave the necklace to Harry.

"You see, my parents protect me. They're always there with me."

Harry opened the locket and looked at the old black and white photograph of a couple with a baby in their arms. Harry wondered what the picture looked like before, when it was still moving, as clear and real as when they were alive. But this frozen picture had the beauty of nostalgia. The couple looked happy.

Pansy gazed at him, her expression so endearing that Harry found his smile back.

"You're right," he said.

He kissed her on the forehead when they heard a noise like a firecracker far away, then a second one. Harry's ears perked up. Worried, Pansy asked :

"What was it ?"

Suddenly, a sound of broken glass. One of the hall's windows.

_Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep….._

The alarm had gone off. Pansy cried out under shock, and Harry straightened up instantly.

Draco surged into the room a second later, his 9 mm in hand.

Pansy yelled : "Draco ! What's… » but he cut her off, his voice authoritative.

"You're going to move upstairs on the second floor. Hide in the study for now. I'll meet you as soon as I can."

He took out another automatic attached to his ankle and held it out to Harry. The latter backed out instinctively and shook his head. Draco held the gun closer to him to insist. "Harry!"

The brunet sighed and took it reluctantly. "I won't shoot," he said.

Shouting sprang outside the room.

"When the moment comes, you'll do what you have to do."

Draco motioned for them to get out. He headed to the stairs, gun raised.

In the corridor, the alarm was deafening.

The sound of broken objects.

Voices downstairs yelling incomprehensible orders.

Harry called back: " Draco". They looked at each other a few seconds. They didn't need words to understand. Draco made a half-smile then walked back the stairs. Harry took the other direction to go to the second floor but he noticed Pansy wasn't behind him anymore. He grimaced and walked back to the corridor. He heard a noise in the room. Pansy got out then, hands on her neck. She put her locket back inside her blouse and mouthed:

" I-for-got -it."

Harry suddenly heard MacNair shout :

"Greyback, behind you."

A gunshot, two shots, a shout of pain.

The sound of steps in the stairway.

They were already coming.

Harry guided Pansy to the left. He took her with him and locked himself up in the empty library. They both crouched down under a little desk against the wall. The room had a side door who gave access to a common room. It was already something, another way out. Yes, but also another way in for _them_. Despite the darkness, Harry could see Pansy was terrified. He ran his fingers though her hair and whispered:

"It's okay, I'm here."

Pansy tightened her lips and nodded weakly.

Crashing noises reached their ears. Another broken window maybe, or they came to blows.

Hurried steps downstairs, on the first floor probably, doors opened or smashed.

_Shit, they're shaking down the whole place._

Steady gunfire, then an agonizing cry.

Harry was powerless here, how to know if Draco and his men would come out alive, if there were victims on their side. Each second, a new shout, a new detonation, and that nagging alarm. Harry tried to assess the situation, but it was impossible. All he could do now was shelter Pansy.

Then, suddenly, the alarm ceased. The silence was more frightening than anything.

Footsteps. Door opening and closing. But no more detonations, no more destruction. Was the worst over?

_Oh__ no, Draco and the others may have already been killed!_

Then, Harry heard creaking not far away. Someone was there, in the corridor, merely a few meters from them. Pansy let out a weak moan and Harry immediately put his hand over her mouth. The girl's eyes were wide open and Harry shook his head, signaling her to keep quiet. He was looking confident, even though he was everything but calm.

They heard the footsteps getting nearer and nearer, then a shadow appeared under the door.

_Don't stop, don't stop. _

The feet kept moving slowly then stopped two seconds. Two seconds that lasted hours, Pansy and Harry holding their breaths. But the shadow moved away. The danger had passed. A door opened on the room next to them. Harry took advantage of it: he took Pansy with him and walked through the room, feeling as he went along. They passed the lateral door and ended up in a big room. They could barely see a thing, just the contours of the furniture and a little perimeter in front of the windows. Harry was moving blindly with the frustration of not knowing the place. He had only had a brief glimpse of it during his last visit.

Pansy went sticking her ear to the door while Harry was watching outside by the window, hoping to see the battle field, but there was nothing from this side. He heard muffled noises from above, struggle sounds…

_Paafff !_

Horror. Something brutally hit the window in front of his eyes, like a heavy package that someone would have thrown. It came rebounding off the parapet to end its fall all the way down to the ground, leaving a bloody trace on the glass.

It was a body. Crabbe.

Harry had no breath, his hands against the window, eyes bulging. Crabbe laid lifelessly, his body disarticulated on the grass.

Harry moved back with slow steps, astounded, still facing the window.

The silence after the fall, Crabbe's specter falling still vivid in his memory.

Harry managed to come out if his daze when Pansy came toward him and said :

"I think the path is cleared."

The girl hadn't notice anything, too absorbed by her surveillance. Harry reached her half-way and took her in his arms in order to divert her from the window. He stayed a few seconds like this with Pansy who, confused, didn't dare to move out of his embrace.

And then, with no warning, the door's knob began to turn. Harry was not far away : his head bounced up at once and he seized Pansy to hide behind the door. It opened then slowly, letting the light in, Pansy concealed behind it whereas Harry was well visible next to her, flattened against the wall.

Harry had no time to think. He saw the unidentified nape and didn't hesitate: he jumped on the man and hit him with his gun's butt with all his might. Pansy let out a little high-pitched cry in spite of herself. The blow was violent and the guy flopped down to the floor, although he was still movingsluggishly. Harry had expected him to be out, and had a moment of hesitation. But the dark eyes of the man opened, a cold look, and Harry didn't lose another second: with his foot, he hit him hard on the head. The kick was clumsy but efficient. The man collapsed for good.

Harry knew someone had probably heard the noise. He took Pansy's hand and got out of the room. They walked up the stairs as discreetly as possible. From his position, he saw men downstairs, walking across the hall. He stepped back and hugged the walls to make himself unseen, his head stuck against the marble, his throat craned and his body stiff. He kept Pansy close to him, a hand against her stomach.

When the road seemed safe, they ran up the stairs. Once on the second floor, they heard voices :

"Fuck, at four o'clock, there are others."

"Shit."

Harry heard noises coming from the exterior, other gunshots. Detonations, again and again. How many were there ?

But he heard someone come up. They had to hide now.

He pushed the first door in front of him. The old ballroom. Mirrors everywhere. Just his luck. The only furniture was a round table covered by a cloth and a big buffet between the two doors giving access to the room. Two more chances to get caught. It was like an open ground. The only place to hide was under the table, but of course, it was also the first place they would search. The only alternative was the two thick curtains framing the bay-window.

This room was a real trap : the hideouts were so obvious, it was laughable, and Harry cursed himself for entering here.

But too late, the steps were already too close and he pushed Pansy toward the curtains.

"Hide yourself…" he whispered against her ear. She looked panicked but obeyed.

They were waiting in the dark. Seconds ticked by, nerve racking. Then the door opened.

A man entered and pushed the switch. The flush-fitting ceiling light brightened the room, the walls suddenly luminous. He took a few steps, his leather shoes squeaking as he moved, his gun in hand. He looked right and left, not a move. The place seemed deserted. Suddenly, the noise of the wind pushing against the windows, in a throbbing moaning. The man kept walking slowly, his silhouette multiplying itself in the mirrors. He came toward the table and swiftly lowered down, lifting up the tablecloth with a brusque gesture. Nothing.

The squeaking noise came back, and a grin drew itself on his face: the curtain had moved. A faint blow on the fabric but a movement nonetheless. He chuckled. He knew his prey was helpless. Hid behind a curtain, what a joke…

He sing sang : " Three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come… And I know exactly where you are."

He opened the curtain with a sharp tug and disclosed Pansy, her eyes wide opened. He revealed his teeth in a strange smile. It had been so easy… He raised his gun to her face, his finger on the trigger, and the next moment, Harry was behind him, his automatic pressed against his nape.

With agility, Harry had climbed up the buffet before the stranger's arrival, out of his sight. He had observed the man's advance and waited for the right moment, when he had his back to him, to make his descent as silently as possible. Luckily, the wind had somewhat lessened the wood's creaking when he had let go of the furniture's edge at the end. The man's voice had almost seemed familiar, and he had rushed to him the moment he saw his arm move. And here he was, he had him at gun's end. He pushed strongly against his nape and the man threw his gun down. Harry kicked it to the other end of the room with his foot.

The man was at his mercy. And now what? Shoot ?

The man turned his head and made out Harry's profile in the mirror. He recognized the young man and his body shook: he was laughing. Harry was baffled but kept his gun firmly in hand. The man told him then :

"My angel. I knew we'd meet again."

_That was it, that voice ! Ellis !_

"So, Draco and you ? You know, I think you made a mistake. Really !"

"Shut up !" Harry shouted with a broken voice.

He licked his lips nervously and tightened his hold against his gun.

Ellis turned around slowly.

"Don't move!" Harry yelled.

But Ellis continued his slow movement toward him.

"I'm unarmed now," he said.

Harry licked his lips again and his eyes kept blinking uncontrollably. In front of him, Ellis, was measured and in perfect control. Harry was the one holding the gun but it was obvious who had the upper hand in this duel.

Ellis smiled with all his charm and told him in a sulfurous voice :

"What you're going to do, shoot me in cold blood ?"

Harry swallowed his saliva, eyes lost. What was he going to do, he himself didn't know. He was screwed.

"I know you're not like them. You're still innocent, I can see it in your eyes. You're not part of their world."

Harry found his voice back :

"It's yours too ! Don't act like you're different from them."

"I know, I'm not perfect, but I would never do you harm, not to you, nor your friend. Angel, let's stop all this, ok ? It's already gone too far. Come on, drop your gun."

Harry knew Ellis was lying, he knew his speech was false, but at least he was right on one point : he wasn't like the others, he couldn't shoot. He looked at Pansy. She seemed on the verge of tears and said nothing as if she already knew the outcome. Harry kept his gun in hand but he was weakening. Ellis saw clear in his attitude and held out his hand slowly until it was right next to the gun. Harry's eyes were shining under the tension and the terrible dilemma. He was petrified, his mind blank. It was over. Ellis took the weapon, dislodging it carefully from the unresisting hand.

The moment the weapon was taken away, the atmosphere changed. An exchange of power. Ellis relaxed a bit more, rolling his shoulders, the pressure suddenly dropping in this gesture, while Harry and Pansy anxiously waited for their fate.

Ellis put the gun at his belt and brushed Harry's cheek.

"You see, it wasn't that difficult."

Harry couldn't even look at him.

What had he done ? He had to protect Pansy!

"Your little friends are surrounded. You've lost."

"No, you're lying," Harry spat.

But then, bursts of gunfire rang out downstairs, a massacre. The sound was weak from the second floor, but unequivocal.

Pansy couldn't believe it herself.

"It's a lie, it's a lie !" she yelled.

Ellis didn't acknowledge her, he kept his eyes fixed on Harry.

" You, you know it's true," he said. "It's over."

Harry didn't know what to think about it, he was so sure Draco would make it…. Was it possible? It couldn't be.

"Now, it's between you and me."

Ellis grabbed a dazed Harry by the neck and propelled him against one of the windows. He took a knife out of his pocket and told him:

"Anyway, I've always hated guns. You know what I prefer ? Knives. So many more sensations."

Harry's breathing was becoming more and more ragged and he looked at Pansy, behind him, petrified.

_Pansy. _

Her, at least he could save. So he looked at Ellis, his stance strong and determined.

"If you let her go, I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

Ellis frowned first, but then he thought better of it. He considered Harry's offer with a feline smile on his face.

"I knew it. As soon as I saw you, I knew we'd get along."

Ellis was under his charm. He looked at Harry with half-lidded eyes and made a head gesture in the door's direction to Pansy .

The girl began to cry.

"Harryyy…"

The brunet looked at her and tried to reassure her :

" Pansy, go, don't worry."

But she wrinkled her eyes, not convinced.

He repeated: "Go," and nodded for her to take her leave.

Pansy's lips were trembling and it took a few seconds before she complied, walking backwards with hesitant steps. She looked at him one last time and then she was gone.

Ellis immediately pressed the blade against Harry's neck. The brunet twitched and a thin trail of blood trickled down his skin. Ellis looked at the track, captivated, then licked his neck. Over Ellis' head, Harry looked disgusted. He trailed his eyes over the gun's butt picking out of his belt, but Ellis was holding him by the shoulders too tightly for him to have a chance to pull it off.

Harry let him have his way. The man sucked and bit his skin like a starving man. When he detached his lips, Harry whispered:

"Again."

He was trying to delay the unavoidable.

Pleased by his reaction, Ellis plunged the blade into the soft skin between the neck and the shoulder. Blood flew out again. Harry had already experienced this kind if kink. He knew how to play it. Let him have his fun first, then control him.

Harry moaned, simulating pleasure, and Ellis let himself go, squeezing Harry's arms hard enough to leave marks on his skin.

"Yes…" Harry hissed.

He put his hands around Ellis' waist, only a few centimeters from the gun. His hand crept closer. It was almost there, almost… Ellis suddenly gripped his wrist, his eyes drowned in Harry's. He shook his head.

"It's not pretty to fake it," he said in a low, sensual voice. "You thought you'd trick me that easily?"

He bit Harry's lips violently, blood again, then he pushed him backwards, slamming his face against the window with a hand and sliding the blade along his jaw with the other. Then, he sunk the knife under his chin. Harry closed his eyes under the pain, his blood pulsing under his skin.

" Hm, gorgeous… " Ellis whispered.

Harry tried to wrench free but Ellis crushed him with all his body and he couldn't move. He opened his eyes: from his position, he could only see the mirror. Suddenly, he saw a blonde head reflect itself.

_Draco!_

A miracle.

Harry was unable to contain his sigh of relief. Noticing his reaction, Ellis snapped his head behind. At that moment, Draco knocked him to the ground with a kick on his thigh, gun raised. Unfortunately, Pansy chose this moment to cross the door and distract him. It left enough time for Ellis to attack Draco with a kick on the femur. It all happened very fast. The blonde fell next to Ellis with a thud, then Harry entered the fight and threw himself at Ellis, crashing on him with all his weight on. But the man was fierce. He took the upper hand in no time and pushed Harry away.

_Baaam!_

A bullet sliced through the air to lodge in the parquet. Everyone froze. Hunched on the floor, Harry turned his head : Pansy was looking at the gun in her hands with bemusement. Ellis jumped up then, but Draco was faster. He was already on his feet, gun in hand. The two men were now face to face.

After the hysteria of the last seconds, it was as if time had slowed down. Short of breath, Ellis threw Draco a distraught look.

"Alright, alright… I give up ok ?" he said with a frightened tone.

It was all an act: while he was speaking, his hand was sneaking in his back. But he had forgotten the mirror behind him. Draco caught his move on its reflection. Ellis had lost.

Draco shot. Fast and precise.

The bullet pierced Ellis' head, a jet of blood gushing out of his forehead. He fell on his knees, eyes empty, and collapsed on the parquet like a puppet.

Pansy screamed, and Draco took a little time before reaching her. He took her in his arms then, and pulled the gun out of her hands, taking off the charger and letting the empty gun fall on the floor. The girl looked at the weapon at her feet with new eyes.

Draco caressed her hair.

«SShhh… It's okay, Pansy…»

Draco turned his head and looked at Harry seated on the floor against the window, blood covering his neck.

" We won."

.

The Chevrolet pulled into the street, followed by a Corvette taken straight out of the property's garage. Goyle and MacNair, respectively at the wheel of each car, began honking wildly. Zabini opened the backdoor and unrolled a large blanket: Ellis' corpse fell heavily on the ground, the bullet hole and the dried blood on his forehead, eyes lifeless and skin chalky white.

Zabini closed the door and the two cars drove off again fast, leaving behind them the body, still lukewarm,lying on the tarmac.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

When they went back to the cottage, the camera at the gate was destroyed.

Bullet impacts on the walls. A security guy lying dead on the ground.

The entrance door was smashed.

Inside, a storm seemed to have fallen upon the villa. The doors were hanging off their hinges, papers and books were scattered on the floor, one of the French windows broken. Bullet holes on the furniture. Harry saw feet sticking out of the terrace : another one of Goyle's guys.

Nott welcomed them, the relief obvious on his face.

"Fuck, I freaked out ! I was starting to believe I'd never see you again."

"Yeah well mate, it was a close call," said Zabini before giving him a big hug.

Nott patted the others on the back. They all had scratches and blood on their clothes.

"Sammy ?"

Draco shrugged.

"I don't know. I saw several of his men get shot, they were on the front lines. I'm not sure he made it... Rabastan is on his way to the clinic with Rodolphus. A bad leg injury." He paused and somberly announced to Nott: "Crabbe is dead."

Nott's face fell at once.

"Shit."

Harry had left one question, although he hardly knew if it were appropriate:

"What will they do with his body ?"

No one took offence and Draco answered :

"We've got guys taking charge of it. They're going to clean everything up."

The last word made Harry uneasy.

"What ? You're going to get rid of the bodies like common trash."

Surprisingly, it was Goyle who answered :

"That's what he would have wanted, fast and clean, no frills."

It was the first time Harry saw this man acting so human. His face, usually as mono-expressive and cold as a statue, was now haunted. His pain was visible even though he kept a certain control over his emotions. He had lost numerous men tonight, but also a friend.

Nott recounted :

"When I arrived, they were already gone. They shot our guys. There are two injured, but the others are dead. All the rooms were sacked. They must have taken the files... It's a mess."

Goyle left the room to appraise the damages and the losses.

Draco kept a cool head :

"With the package we left in front of their headquarters, they won't play smart for long. Ellis recruited a gang of feather-brained pawns. Good soldiers but nothing more. Without their boss, they're nothing."

"You took Ellis out ?" Nott asked.

"Hm, I think we don't fear much."

MacNair and Greyback who had gone to inspect the residence stormed in. Greyback barely set one foot inside when he said, furious :

"The dogs, they blew the safes off! There's nothing left."

Draco didn't fret. On the contrary, he was so calm it was unsettling. With glowing eyes, he said :

"I had made a transfer two weeks ago. I think they'll be disappointed by the loot."

MacNair's reaction wasn't long in coming.

"There's trust for you !"

Draco stayed nonchalant.

"A simple precaution, and after what happened, I think it was a good decision, don't you agree ?"

Nott started laughing madly.

"Shit, and I thought we were screwed ! You are pure fucking class."

He gave a high five to Draco then Zabini who started laughing in turn. Greyback chuckled, carried away by the general jubilation:

"They're going to crawl to us, their tails between their legs!"

"I think our ranks will grow in no time," Draco added, triumphant.

Harry smiled, watching them relieve the night's pressure, happy to simply be alive. He suddenly had the impression he was forgetting about something. Or someone.

Then, he had a sudden flash :

"And Flint ? Any news ?"

His question cast a dark shadow in the room. Nott shook his head and Draco's face clouded in an instant. He tried to reassure Harry :

"He must have found a hideout. We'll launch searches tomorrow. No need to worry."

His words didn't appease Harry. Flint was the only one who could explain him what had gone wrong. He needed to talk to him about the mission. How were they going to put it right? He needed his wingman.

_Let's hope he's safe and sound. I'm helpless without him._

Draco took Nott by the arm and guided him toward the terrace, stepping over the broken glass.

"Did you call for the cleaning?" he asked.

"They're on their way. I called Marty for his team to come and see the damages. They'll fix everything tomorrow."

"Good. Now, tell me everything."

They walked away to the garden.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry was in Draco's bathroom. It was bigger than his, with a large oval bathtub and a separated shower stall. The blue tiles gave a serene touch to the room.

The calm after the storm.

Harry had just taken his shower. His hair was still wet. He was shirtless, flannel pants on the hips. He scratched his neck, making his cuts bleed again. Draco slapped his hand away.

The blonde hadn't have time to clean himself up yet : his clothes were still stained with blood. He took out a first-aid kit from the medicine chest and invited Harry to sit next to the washbasin. Harry hopped up and looked at Draco's hands rummaging through the kit. The blonde took out the disinfectant and some cotton.

"Draco, what about you ?" Harry protested. "Your arm wound ?"

"It's nothing. Leave it to me," Draco quietly answered, soaking the cotton with the solution.

"You should have gone with the Lestranges... By the way, what's this clinic? They won't ask questions?"

"We know the director. They don't leave traces over there."

Harry's eyes roved over Draco's face, then he ran his hand just below Draco's nape where some nasty scratches appeared.

"Look at all thesecuts," he whispered. He was about to protest again, but he kept his mouth shut in front of Draco's serious look. He sighed and tipped his head backwards to present him his neck. Draco smiled, satisfied, and started to apply the soaked cotton on his cuts.

"Careful, it stings," he warned, but Harry was already cringing. Draco grimaced and kept up his meticulous work. The blood slowly vanished, leaving only long reddish lines on the brunet's skin.

"That sick bastard…"Draco said with a raging tone, "… marking you like that ! He had no right! I'd rip his eyes out if he weren't already dead."

Harry couldn't help but smile despite the morbid sound of the declaration. Draco was acting so jealous and protective toward him.

"Hm, but you know my body is yours," he answered with a low voice.

Draco smiled mischievously. "Exactly," he said before softly blowing on his wound. "I have no choice, I'll have to mark you myself…"

Draco attacked Harry's neck with his mouth, sucking avidly where the skin was untouched. Harry closed his eyes and plunged his fingers in the blonde hair. Draco put his lips away a few seconds after and looked at the purple mark with contentment. Harry put his head back straight, eyes clouded with desire. He leaned over and kissed Draco gently, diving his tongue on his palate, his legs dangling from each side of the blonde. His head was a bit higher than his, and it was nice to topple over Draco at that moment.

Harry finally ended the kiss with a swipe of his tongue and looked at Draco. The blonde slowly opened his eyes, their faces still so close. Then, Harry said :

"Take off your shirt, let me see what you've gotten yourself into."

Draco wasn't prepared for the change of subject and sighed.

"I told you it was fine."

Harry insisted:

"Draco, I want to see, please."

He kissed him again and managed to make the last barrier fall. Draco straightened up and took his shirt off to free his harm. Harry gasped, horrified. Draco had a huge wound along his biceps, but what shocked him more was the black thread sewn roughly through the flesh .

"Draco ! When did you do that ? You need to go to the hospital!"

"I told you I'm okay. Greyback took care of it when you were with Pansy. I knew you wouldn't approve…" Harry's eyebrows stayed frowned and Draco had to reassure him again : "The wound is clean. I assure you Greyback knew exactly what he was doing. Listen, I'll go to the clinic tomorrow to be sure it heals well. You're happy?"

Harry lowered his head, suddenly shameful.

"And you who clean my ridiculous cuts."

Draco lifted his chin up to look at him straight in the eye.

"Greyback took care of me, and I'm taking care of you."

Harry was almost sulking, running his fingers on the washbasin's white enamel and added:

"I don't want you to hide me anything from me. We're together now, aren't we?" Harry had blurted out these words blushing, but he needed to define their relationship. "You have to tell me everything."

Oh, the irony. He was asking Draco for his most total honesty while he was cloaking himself in lies.

Draco plunged his eyes in his and said:

" I promise."

Later that night, Sammy had finally shown up, his arm wrapped in a scarf and his head bleeding. In bad shape, but he still acted tough. "It's nothing, a little rest and I'll be as new." Nott had disappeared with Goyle, but Greyback and MacNair were in the living-room for once, chatting around a glass of scotch like old veterans.

Harry and Draco had joined the group around the coffee table while Zabini was telling Sammy about the exploits of the night.

"Our guys fought well… They launched at the enemy head first. We were shooting like crazy. Me, I had a plan in my head, the perfect trajectory, the best angle, but they all turned up at once, we were forced to fling ourselves into the mass."

He had a sad smile.

"Crabbe had his moment of glory." He turned to Greyback. "You know, with the two small guys there, pocket sizes, but vicious ! They attacked us from behind. Then, he shot them full of holes… It was wild !"

He took a gulp of alcohol and continued with emphasis :

"And it wasn't a pretty sight. The others outnumbered us, we let ourselves be overtaken. We lost all the security team in barely three minutes ! And in the end, we were no more than six against twenty four, twenty five dudes!"

Greyback corrected him, amused :

"More like fifteen…"

Zabini swiped his remark away with his hand without stopping his recount.

"They were already bragging about their victory, I'm telling you... They led us to the cave. You'd have thought we were war prisoners heading to the firing squad." He slapped his thigh and suddenly shot out : "The mistake ! They didn't expect us to have an arsenal down there. Nothing but big calibers, packed with munitions, and Greyback had quietly hidden there."

The aforementioned smiled, recalling the scene.

"He went out with a gun in each hand, like in a John Woo movie! It was a blast! And we defended ourselves well too."

Harry was listening, his head in the crook of Draco's shoulder. Zabini's words became more and more foreign, far away. He let himself be swept away by sleep, tenderly resting against Draco's chest.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Two days had passed.

Draco's men had done a great job. The cottage looked almost brand new. The doors had been replaced, the windows changed, a real tour de force.

Goyle, or one of his new guys, was always present in the living-room. Apparently, security had** been** reinforced again. Harry feared the others were beginning to suspect him again, though they had made no new accusations against him in lieu of the ambush. He felt as though there was something fishy going on and he remained alert. He could see Draco was acting different too. And yet, the latter let him join their meetings. What were they afraid of ?

Unless all this was just a test. Were their meetings set up ? Were they trying to fool him ? No, why would they take all this trouble ?

Furthermore, the last meetings didn't lead to anything and ended up in fights. Since that memorable night when they all gathered around a drink, in good battle companionship, the atmosphere strangely deteriorated. Draco and his team had trouble communicating. MacNair and Greyback were screaming for revenge while the others wished simply to enjoy Ellis' fallout. Draco was torn.

Harry had a hard time bearing this new situation. He spent his nights analyzing the last events, looking for an explanation.

**June 3, 2004**

That night, sleep would not come. Harry turned and turned again in his bed, restless. He abandoned his fruitless attempts and went downstairs in his tee-shirt and his boxer shorts to quench his thirst. He walked around the counter, the living room only lit up by the lights of the terrace. No one, no noise. Harry poured himself a glass of milk and took a packet of biscuits from the shelves. He sat at the bar and stared in nothingness, thoughtful. Then, he noticed some light under the little door behind the stairs. He didn't know what was behind, he had never entered there before. It was one of the forbidden areas. He approached cautiously, grabbed the handle and lowered it: it was unlocked.

He slowly opened the door, the light surging in a triangle of light in the living-room. He closed the door swiftly, pushing his hands against the chink until the click sounded, nearly imperceptibly. He had to make as little sound as possible. A staircase in front of him. He shuddered, his feet naked on the icy stone. The idea to go down toward the unknown made him nervous. He came forward and heard a gurgling. Tingles ran along his back again but he gathered his courage and forced his legs to move on. He reached the last step and suddenly heard voices: MacNair and Greyback.

He took a silent breath and progressed slowly along the wall to hear more clearly, his hand trailing on the stone as he moved closer. It was a long corridor, the walls naked and humid. The light stopped a bit further and he couldn't see the end of it. His heart was beating out of his chest, he had a bad feeling about this… He circled a little table on the corridor with glasses and a bottle on it. Then, he noticed an opening on his left, leading to a room. No door. He edged closer to it and heard a blood chilling scream.

_Fuck what was that ?_

An erratic and loud breathing. Greyback's cruel laughter.

Harry leaned against the wall and caught sight of two bloodied hands. He bent his head a little more and his breath caught in his throat: the side view of a chair. Flint was sitting on it, hands tied behind the bars, his face swollen and bruised, his naked torso covered with purulent wounds, cuts on his neck, arms, everywhere. His body was a shaking mass of red and glowing flesh. His face was hardly recognizable.

Harry began breathing hard, palpitations in his chest. He had to put a hand over his mouth not to scream.

"So, are you going to talk ? You're working for Ellis, we know it," said Greyback.

A razor slash on the chest.

"You're a tough bastard, hm."

Someone moved forward and punched Flint in the face. Nott.

Flint's face waltzed backwards, a gurgle coming out of his mouth but he didn't say anything.

"Fuck, we won't get anything from him. Three days without a word, there's nothing to do."

_Three days. _

"_Where's Flint ? And Nott ?" _

"_No idea…" _

"_What about Flint ? Any news ?"_

"_He must have found a hideout. We'll launch searches tomorrow. No need to worry."_

Three days of torture.

Draco had lied to him. Flint was already locked up in the cave when they had come back that night.

Harry wanted to cry with rage… sadness… despair…

But maybe Nott and the Elders had took the initiative without consulting Draco ? Maybe he didn't even know they were here!

"He won't talk. We know he sold us, I don't need anything else." A break. "Boss ?"

_Draco?__ No._

_Of course he'__s there, what were you expecting, jerk._

Draco bent over Flint, entering Harry's field of vision. He looked at the prisoner coldly.

"You're not alone, huh ? Tell me what you said to Ellis and who you're working with and I might let you live. Who is it, hm?" Silence. "You really want to die here like a dog ?"

Harry closed his eyes, the need to run and free Flint. Shit, what could he do ? If he went in there, his intrusion would be seen like a treason. And would Flint flinch and sell him out if he saw him now?

_- - - It's him, it's him, he's behind the whole thing! - - -_

Flint coughed and spit blood.

"I'm already dead, don't fuck with me," he managed to croak out.

Draco smoothed his hair down and walked back to the far end of the room.

"Let me finish him," Greyback slurred.

Silence.

" Draco." MacNair's call to order.

Flint's head was dangling toward the opening now. He opened his good eye and stared at Harry.

Harry lost his breath then and gave him a sad and helpless look. He searched for a sign over Flint's face.

_What must I do ?_

Flint moved his lips with small jolts, as if trying to put on a smile. Harry shook his head. Flint couldn't go like this. No.

Then, Flint said, his voice broken by a coughing fit :

"I wouldn't say no to a cigarette."

Nott mocked :

"Sure, a last will. You may want a glass of wine with that?"

However, Draco came to Flint. He awkwardly inserted a cigarette in the bloody mouth and lit it up with Flint's lighter. The latter took a puff and coughed some more. The cigarette fell on his lap. Draco bent to put it back, but Flint turned his head away and then spit on Draco's suit. Nott jumped forward with a groan and gave him a right hook. Flint's head jerked backwards, the blow so brutal that Harry cringed, bumping against the table behind him. The glasses and the bottle on it swayed under the shock.

His heart stopped.

One of the glasses came crashing on the floor, the sound like a bomb in the corridor. Harry ran at full speed in the stairs, his naked feet barely making a sound, and opened the door leading to the living-room in a rush. Suddenly, a cold and painful weight on his temple. He turned his eyes.

The barrel of a gun. An arm. Goyle.

He felt like he was anesthetized and didn't move a centimeter, holding his breath. The pressure on his skin was strong and he knew that at any moment, the shot might take off. A voice at his back :

"Put that down right away !"

_Draco. _

Goyle dislodged his arm with reluctance, leaving a nice round print on Harry's temple.

"Fuck, where have you been, you were supposed to come down ten minutes ago ! Idiot, you let the door opened! What were you doing?"

Harry didn't hear Goyle's answer.

He turned slowly, spaced out.

The blonde was finally facing him, his skin clammy and his eyes horrified. He stared at Harry, unable to utter a word. He was waiting for a reaction from the brunet, but all he got was a shocked gaze.

MacNair walked up in turn but Draco shook "no" with his head. The man half-closed the cave's door behind him. Draco sent Goyle away also with a gesture.

They were alone now, face to face.

Harry managed to blurt out, trembling:

"What are you doing ?"

"It was Flint who was the traitor. Nott spotted him the morning of the ambush in a public phone booth. He had lost him to make a phone call. Nott thought there was an explanation, Flint was always so quiet… Shit, he's been with us for years! But Flint lied, he said he just went for a walk! So after this trap, and the fiasco in the docks…"

"You lied to me ! You knew Nott had brought Flint back here to torture him that night !"

"Of course I knew, I ordered it."

Harry was beside himself, crushed with guilt. He had seen nothing coming.

"And while we were drinking and joking, all this time, he was locked in the cave, agonizing!"

Draco was getting worked up too, trying to make Harry understand the situation :

"It was him from the beginning, Harry ! He was in cahoots with Ellis !"

"No, you're wrong ! You're going to kill an innocent !"

"Harry, he confessed !"

Harry shook his head.

"No, it's not true !"

"He admitted he was seeking revenge. It was easy after that to make the connection with Ellis. It all makes sense, don't you see!"

"He wanted… he wanted revenge ? But what for?"

"An old story, a misunderstanding…" A pause. "What matters is that he ratted us !"

"You can't… It's Flint ! It's Flint for fuck's sakes ! His… His mother is sick, and his uncle… You were together at Hogwarts… It's your friend!"

" Harry !"

He stepped closer to the brunet, keeping a respectable distance.

" Harry, he's a traitor. He stabbed us in the back ! I can't let him live."

Harry begged him with his eyes. He didn't know what to do or what to say anymore. What words would put an end to this nightmare ?

While silence had fell again, Harry and Draco's shaking breaths the only interferences in the room, a noise resounded, harrowing.

_Baam ! _

A detonation like a knife cut in the heart.

With one shot, one only, Flint was dead.

Downstairs, far from Harry' eyes, the lifeless sagging body, trussed up on the chair, a hole in the middle of the head.

A summary execution.

The sound had reached them so weakly in the living-room, but Harry had felt it as though it went off next to his ears. He couldn't hear nothing but a buzzing sound, muffling everything else. He couldn't swallow his saliva, move or think.

It was over. Nothing would ever be the same.

Harry awoke to his surroundings like a child to life : he wanted to scream, to cry and return in his cocoon.

Had Draco reacted to the gunshot ?

_I think he started, yes._

He looked at the blonde so unperturbed in front of him, his body straight. Something passed in his eyes. Concern for Harry maybe, but nothing for Flint. Nothing.

Harry began heaving stronger and stronger. Rage was building inside of him. He wanted to hurt Draco, to make him react, feel, anything.

_Don't you feel anything, anything at all, here in your heart ? Do you have a heart? I thought so, but now I'm not sure anymore._

And Harry started yelling, cries coming from deep inside of him, rough and hoarse by their force:

"Nooo ! Nooo ! I hate you ! I hate you !... Why ? »

He started hitting Draco on the chest with all his might and his heart, maybe to make him fight, to wake him up :

"Why ? Tell me, what is wrong with you !"

Tears mingled with cries but he kept going:

"I hate you… ! You lied to me ... ! I hate you… ! »

Draco didn't move, he let Harry go wild, taking the blows, not even trying to retain him, his arms dangling. He was surely in pain, the attack was brutal, and yet he stayed there, at a loss.

" … I hate you… I hate you… I… " Harry's voice was getting weaker now, his throat sore and his forces drained. There was nothing left but his tears and his raspy breathing.

His fists clenched on Draco's shirt, his head on the blonde's torso as if trying to embrace him, but it was only the despair of his body who couldn't held it any longer, his hands who wanted to hit him again, to pierce the flesh. The pain to reach Draco, to make him fell at least something.

Draco hesitated to put his hands on Harry's head, but before he could make his mind, the latter pushed him violently away, stepping back.

He looked at Draco, eyes filled with disgust and anger, the traces of his tears still fresh on his cheek. He was beautiful in all that rage and that despair, his green eyes shining and his body tense.

Draco seemed struck by the sudden force emanating from him.

"I don't want to see you again," Harry said in a slow voice." I don't want to talk to you again. You're nothing to me anymore, you hear me ! Nothing."

Draco winced, Harry's words like a slap on his face.

Harry slowly walked up the stairs.

He closed the door to his room and collapsed, head between his hands. His body was shaking and he cried again and again, till there were no more tears left in him. He slept like an orphan, his arms tight around him.


	14. Turn Off the Lights

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters. Alfred Hitchcock's "Notorious" belongs to MGM.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The great Avenalanon. Any mistake left is mine.

AN: I'm so sorry for the lateness! I had a few technical problems, and a very busy agenda. But the next chapter should arrive much sooner. So, all my apologies and I hope this chapter will make up for the wait!

* * *

**CHAPTER 13 : TURN OFF THE LIGHTS**

**June 4, 2004**

Harry had woken with a start. It was the first time in a long time that he was unable to remember his dream. He rubbed his eyes still heavy with sleep and got up to look out the window. Then, the night's images came rushing back to his mind. He frowned.

_Flint._

Yes, this nightmare was indeed real.

They probably had gotten rid of the body by now, cleaned everything up. Turned the page. Would his mother and his uncle receive a call from the Division? With this mission becoming increasingly more dubious, nothing was really sure. They might never know what really happened to Flint.

A dreadful feeling of loneliness and fright tightened his chest. Since he had arrived here, he had found strength in Flint's quiet and reassuring presence. The man was a rock and Harry knew that with him, he had a chance to succeed. He wouldn't have to bear the burden of his mission alone. But from now on, it was only him, and Flint's fate reminded him of the danger that was threatening him, a danger now very much more tangible.

He was going to die here.

Yes, this house, which had become almost familiar, was now stained by death. An unpleasant sensation, like a putrid smell, emanated from the place, and Harry had only one want : to get out of the charnel as soon as possible.

They had played cowboys and Harry had felt like he was a full-fledged member of the team. But while he was consolidating ties with the gang, they had butchered Flint behind his back. He had the distinctimpression he had let down the one he considered as his only ally.

Nott was speaking with Zabini at the terrace as though nothing hadhappened. Things were going their way, and it was this facade that had grown unbearable. Everyone was so calm. Harry felt like he was in another dimension. He stepped out from the window and headed to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, unfazed, and crossed his reflection in the mirror. With a blank stare, he opened the medicine cabinet briskly, not ready to face his image yet. In front of him, all the body and bath products neatly lined up, the toothpaste, the shaving gel, the aftershave, the deodorant, the aspirin tube, everything at its place, and that's what made his anger burst. With his hands, he threw all the tubes on the floor, his palms shaking and his face distorted. It made a terrible clatter but it strangely soothed him. And when there was nothing left to destroy, he slammed the little cabinet's door violently, making it bounce against the magnet. He slammed it again and again, close to breaking the mirror, when he finally held himself to the washbasin's edges, head low, a whine escaping from his mouth.

He had made a hell of a racket, but nobody came in to see what was going on. Harry turned, pressing the small of his back against the basin, and wiped his face with his shirt sleeve, rolling his shoulders. He looked at the mess at his feet. The aspirin bottle had emptied itself on the floor, the cap of the aftershave was off and the liquid had spread across the floor. The products were lying at all four corners of the room.

Everything was falling apart.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry walked down into the living-room and heard Zabini :

"I just want to say I'm against it. I think you're making a mistake."

All the clan was here. Once Harry's presence was noticed, Zabini's voice died down a few seconds before resuming.

Harry threw a somber look at the group. The message was clear: "Nobody gets close".

Draco took the floor, and his voice made Harry react, his heart beating a little stronger. He wasn't indifferent, no, but he would do his utmost to ignore this pinch inside of him.

"You voiced your opinion."

The blonde had made no sign to acknowledge his presence, but Harry didn't care one bit. He felt a hell of a headache arise. He took a glass in the cupboard, filled it with water and dropped an aspirin in it. In the corner of his eye, he could see the portal to hell, the dastardly door under the stairs. He half expected to see flames come out from under the door and Flint's ravaged body to storm out with a ferocious glint in his eye. The door burnt his eyes, its presence intolerable. He turned to the center of the room then, standing next to the bar, and swallowed the fizzy water, the effervescent tablet still singing, no more than a thin shriveled disc in the glass. He listened to the Snakes with an ear.

It's Nott who talked this time :

"Well, I for one agree with the Elders. We have to show them we're not joking. They can't walk all over us without consequences. And the leaders must fall."

"Singer, Patil and Humphrey," said MacNair. "Those are the next targets. So how do you want to proceed ?"

Draco answered :

"Hm I've got to plan this with Sammy tomorrow night, but I want to take care of the three of them at once."

Harry had promised himself he would not intervene, but here, he stopped everything and made his voice heard :

"Wait a second, I thought the message with Ellis was supposed to unite everyone." His voice had came out hoarse and broken, but he kept going anyway: "Has there been trouble since ? "

They all turned to him, surprised, at the exception of Draco who kept his eyes lowered. Yet, it was the blonde who answered him.

"It would be really stupid on my part to welcome potential traitors into our clan," he snapped with a scornful tone. "They were with Ellis and their allegiance won't change overnight."

Harry couldn't help but be stern and sharp with him:

"You said yourself that you would get more powerful once his men join you. You won't even give them a chance."

Draco laughed frankly of his naivety.

"This isn't a charity! I have been less than cautious, alright? Elimination will have the same result, but it will also confirm our positions and rid us of the parasites."

Harry shook his head and took a step forward.

" Reprisal by another massacre will only stir up minds! You're going to revive violence. Do you want to lose someone else ? Has all this taught you anything ?"

Draco threw the files he was holding in his hands over the table and retorted in a dry voice :

"We'll do without your comments. You can return to your room."

Harry moved forward to face the men on the couch. The conversation became heated.

" Here we go, you're ordering me again. You feel bigger when you order everyone around, don't you?"

Draco saw red and got off the couch to confront Harry. They were standing dangerously close now.

"I forbid you to talk to me like that in front of my men, you hear me ?"

"I'm not one of your subordinates," retorted Harry, head held up high. "I'll do whatever I want."

"Not in my house. If you want to leave, the door is wide open."

Harry opened his mouth but couldn't find a repartee. He couldn't leave the Organization. There lied the problem.

He realized that by staying, in the eyes of the others, he was staying for Draco. There was no other valid explanation to his presence here. How he would have loved to scream "Fine!" and slam the door without turning back, but this dignity there wouldn't even be granted to him. He had to stay for Remus, and now for Flint…

In front of Draco, he had no other choice but to attack. Frustrated, irritated, he aggravated the conversation:

"You're getting off on this, huh, playing gods, controlling everything, deciding who has to live or die ! You're sick."

A twisted smile painted on Draco's face. That was not the expected reaction. Harry braced himself and then it came. Draco threw at him with no shame:

"That's rich coming from a junky who'd get fucked by anyone for his dope."

The counterstrike had been astounding and cruel. The blood drained from Harry's face. How could Draco have used this against him? It was a low blow. A blow to hurt, and it worked. Tears of rage came up despite him, and he had to hold himself to prevent them for spilling.

Draco had turned his back to him. Had he even sensed what he had set off?

Harry hadn't said his last word, and if his voice wasn't strong, he hit hard :

"You know something Draco, you are just like your father."

The blonde's nape stiffened and his comeback was brisk. He turned around in a flash. Harry didn't see his face, just his fist swooping on his cheek. A left jab. The blow knocked him down.

It took Harry a moment before he recovered his senses. Collapsed at the foot of the bar, he attempted several times before getting up. Furious and out of control, he flung himself toward Draco, but Zabini had moved forward in the midst of the confusion and held him back by the arm.

"Harry, stop!... Let it go!"

Draco looked as stunned as if he had received the blow himself. He was frozen, eyes wide, as though he just now comprehended his gesture. Harry didn't analyze his attitude. Draco had hit him, this was the only fact of which he was sure. Harry was boiling with anger, eyes in flames. Zabini pushed him toward the stairs to put some distance between the two men. Above his shoulder, Harry yelled to Draco:

"Better be a junky than a murderer ! I'd rather crawl back to my hole, at least down there, we don't make up excuses for ourselves!"

Zabini tried to make him go upstairs, but Harry resisted:

"Let go of me !" He struggled : "Let me go, I tell you! »

He pushed Zabini with all his strength and managed to break free, his breathing heavy. He looked in every way, running a hand through his hair, the cellar's door right next to him. The vision of Flint covered in blood on his chair, the gunfire.

" I can't," he said more for himself than anything else. He couldn't breathe anymore. They were all looking at him here, in front of him, embarrassed or bothered, looking so fucking nonchalant. A band of murderers.

He bolted then upstairs, in his room, and opened the door so strongly that it banged against the wall. He opened the cupboard and took out his travel bag that he threw violently on the bed. He picked up all the clothes he could in one armful and put them all jumbled-up inside, then he emptied all the chest's drawers. He left a few things behind. Only one thing in his mind : leave this place.

At that moment, his cheek still stung. The blow and the humiliation he just suffered were too strong for him to think about the consequences of his departure. Remus was miles away from his concerns. He put the voice of reason far away in a recess of his head.

Leave.

He got down the stairs with hurried steps and drew in a breath, then another one as if he were on the starting blocks. He walked to the entrance. The others were still seated on the couches, without reaction. Zabini threw a look at Draco, but nothing. Harry crossed the threshold and took a breath of air, full of emotion, angry, sad. Everything was churning around in his head, but when he looked at the portal, the street behind, a wind of freedom blew through his heart

His bag in hand, he walked like each step counted. But once in front of the gate, one of the new security guys stopped him:

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

Harry hold out his hand to push the gate but the man put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"We didn't receive any orders."

Harry sighed and gripped his hair. He was tired of all this. He dropped his hands and took another step.

"I'm not a prisoner here, alright. If I want to go, I go."

The man blocked him again but before Harry could protest, the man turned his head toward the entrance door. Draco was there, on the doorstep. Harry stared at him, so far already. Who was that man? The blonde looked stiff and emotionless, so different from the man he thought he knew. Draco just nodded his head and walked back inside. Harry's gaze stayed pinned to the door. He had the feeling he was leaving a part of his life behind. He didn't even know what he was doing, he just had this overpowering impulseto go. At this instant, he needed to leave.

Once at the other side of the gate, he didn't even know which way to go. It was like he was changing the course of things, but he saw nothing ahead. He finally turned to the left. It felt so strange, ushering his feet one after the other, walking away without goal or purpose. Down the street, he heard a voice screaming:

"Harry ! Harry !"

_Pansy._

He was already far from the house but he stopped nonetheless. A moment of hesitation. He found himself completely at a loss, but he couldn't go back.

_Keep walking._

He tightened his hold on his bag's shoulder strap and resumed his walk. He continued on his way, the girl's cries becoming no more than a faint sound behind him.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry walked for a good hour, emptying himself of everything, his doubts, his dread. Finally, he took a halt in a small pub. The place was almost empty. Harry approached the bar, threw his travel bag on the floor and ordered a gin and tonic.

"Strong liquor at this hour," an unknown voice noted.

Harry did not look up. He just wanted to be left alone.

"What is it matter to you?" he asked, embittered.

"I'd rather you'd be sober when you see McCarthy."

Well, that definitely caught his interest. Harry turned to the stranger, eyebrows down.

"What ?"

The man didn't return the look, staring down at the counter, acting casual.

"Look in front of you. You don't want to draw attention."

The man was tall, pretty average, but his voice was very direct. Harry told him:

"I'm not followed."

The man had this faculty to keep a neutral expression while his voice was curt:

"How do you know ? Did you spot us?"

He had a point. The man kept on :

"Take the backside exit, a car is waiting for you."

They would never let him go.

Harry put his glass down and slowly got up. Alright, if he left running, he wouldn't stand a chance.

_Think about Remus. There may be news. _

Harry bent to take his bag and made his way through the dirty tables with their alcohol whiff stench**, **and a bored looking waitress. It felt a long way until he reached the door. He took a big breath before pushing the door, and ended up in the back alley. In front of him, as planned, a black car with tinted windows. A man came out from the back, took the bag in his hand and opened the door for him. Harry had no choice: he climbed in.

McCarthy was inside, his eyes cold and piercing. Harry had forgotten how intimidating he could be, especially this close.

He heard the truck closing, then the henchman took his seat back, forcing Harry to scoot over, stuck between the two bigger men. Everything was calculated of course. Operation intimidation.

McCarthy tapped Harry's knee, both laidback and threatening, an odd combination, and asked him with a mocking tone :

"So, Harry, you're trying to slip the leash ? I wonder who did the breaking up."

Then, he took Harry's chin none too gently to turn his face around and admire the bruise on his cheek.

"Did you try to play clever again or was it a lover spat?"

Harry freed his face with a sharp movement and stayed mute.

"One or the other, I don't give a fuck, you're going back, understood?"

Harry shook his head and announced with a grave voice:

"Flint is dead."

McCarthy didn't seem that surprised. He simply answered :

"I had suspicions. He was supposed to contact us the next day in case we failed… He knew the risks."

His casualness was annoying Harry who already wished the little ride would end. He spoke again, still serious.

"We fulfilled our mission, we served you Draco and his team on a plate. It's not our fault if you weren't up tothe mark. I consider this over."

Harry knew what was coming.

McCarthy grabbed him by the collar, their foreheads almost touching.

"Little shithead, I am telling you when this is over, ok ? Your tip arrived at last minute. You think an operation like this can be hatched in the snap of a finger? Now it's up to you to fix this and give us more occasions. And if that's not enough to you, you can say bye bye to your dear Remus, because he won't make the night when I'll send him back to section A."

Harry changed expression and, hoping and doubting at the same time, asked him :

"The transfer… ?"

"Was successful. Remus is out of danger. For now. One word from me and he goes right back under the knife. Is that what you want?" Harry lowered his eyes. "That's what I thought."

Harry decided to impose a requirement. He needed guarantees, and he had to affirmit all himself.

"I want to talk to him,"he said.

McCarthy's reaction wasn't the one he expected. The man quietly told him:

"I can arrange it."

These words gave Harry more strength. He needed to hear his friend's voice, to feel he was still there for him.

The car stopped then but Harry had another important question to ask:

"Flint, why did he volunteer ?"

McCarthy raised a brow, recalling their first encounter.

"Ah, little Flint was well bitter when I met him. He wanted to bite the shit out of me for what happened to his father." He smiled. "When I told him it was Lucius Malfoy who set his father up by putting the police on his tracks, it turned things around... Malfoy killed Flint Senior as surely as if he had hanged the man in his cell himself. " His smile turned evil. "I knew he'd be a good element. Such a rage to fight…"

Harry whispered, thinking out loud :

"His father… "

Harry understood it all now.

Flint had been sacrificed. Remus was in the hot seat**. **And in the name of what ? Revenge. Settling scores that weren't their own. They were fighting others' battles.

He cried out then :

"But Draco has nothing to do with this !"

McCarthy leaned over him.

"What do you think !" he barked. "Draco and his father are the same ! Bad seeds! As guilty as one another. Killers and thieves, all scum !"

Harry could see a vein springing out upon McCarthy's forehead, his eyes scrutinizing him, turning from the right eye to the left one. Then, the man calmed down, straightened up and spoke plainly:

"You keep it up, okay ? Tonight, you'll go back to your apartment. There's a bus right ahead."

He gave him a 5 £ bill for the trip but Harry pushed his hand away. He couldn't stand the gesture. McCarthy smiled and put it back in his pocket.

"We'll contact you later. And don't be a smartass, alright ?"

McCarthy's colleague was already out. Harry got off, his travel bag waiting on the sidewalk, then he looked at the car driving away.

Outside, the sun was hitting strong. He took his blue sweatshirt off and went sitting down in the bus shelter nearby. He looked at the people waiting with their children, smiling and chatting among them. When did he move away from this world ? He felt so disconnected from the everyday life, so far from these carefree lives. He ached to just get on the first bus and go far, far way.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

When he arrived at his apartment, he was struck by the smallness of the place. Compared to the cottage, it was no more than a shoe box.

He looked at his room. Everything seemed in order, but not quite. The differences were barely visible. Goyle had done a good job.

Fortunately, McCarthy had told him to take his precautions. He had cut his phone line before leaving. His answering machine would have been filled with Ron's messages, no doubt about it. He was probably dying with worry…

Harry went down to his neighbor's cellar. The man had kindly allowed him to stock some of his things there. He walked among the small room cluttered with boxes, papers and dusty objects. He took out several boxes piled in a corner : more papers, notebooks and photos of the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus, and other traces of his past.

Later in the night, Harry was seated on the carpet in front of the TV, the coffee table strewn with boxes of chinese food ordered at the last minute. He hadn't taken more than a few bites**:** he couldn't eat. The TV broadcasted an insipid program. A woman was crying in a close-up, pouring out her heart in front of the camera.

Living with Draco, Pansy and the others had felt like finding a new family, admittedly dysfunctional, and in the end completely rotten, but somehow, he had found his place within them. This brief stay had drawn him out of the solitude he had crafted so carefully after Remus.

In front of the TV's light, he went over his old friends' pictures. On one of them, Remus and he, arm in arm, in the middle of a family that took them in for several days in Edinburgh. Memories of a journey interrupted too soon.

The last months with Remus had been exhausting. Their story had been more chaotic than the version Harry had told to Draco. Remus had indeed been tortured in one of the Division's centers, but Harry had managed to set up anoperation thanks to a high-placed contact whom he was in favour with, and the Weasleys' help. After an extreme rescue during a transfer, he had hit the road with latter had been in such a bad state that Harry had prayed each night for him to stay alive. But they had made it in the long run.

At the time of the breakout, Division 8 was a recently formed entity, and therefore fallible, but for the six months that had followed, the discredited Division had undergone a complete restructuring, their systems reinforced and their material means revised upwards. The man hunt had been speared, forcing them to take all their precautions and taking them to Scotland : Arthur had trusted men in Aberdeen.

Merely a few kilometers from their destination, Harry and Remus, exhausted, had taken refuge in a little inn. Yet, they had stayed awake until late that night. Remus had been particularly agitated, persuaded something wrong was going to happen. An anxiety attack. Harry remembered how lost he had felt at that moment, and how hard he had tried to stifle his friend's fears. They had shared a beer and talked for hours. Finally, Remus had fallen asleep before Harry.

It was the last time Harry had seen him.

The next morning, Harry had woken up alone in his room. In a panic, he had left in search of his friend, but once outside, McCarthy had came down on him with three of his oafs. McCarthy was a feared agent. He was at the top of the division, renowned for his thorough methods and his pugnacity. And he had come to arrest Harry and Remus himself, looking so content. Harry had struggled, had cried out his friend's name, but it was already too late, and McCarthy had taken delight in announcing him that Remus was already in the convoy heading for the detention center, among the other"aliens of his sort". Harry hadn't even had the chance to see him one last time. No goodbye, no farewell.

Harry looked at the picture sadly, running his finger alongtheir smiling faces. He took another gulp of beer and put the picture back in the middle of the pile inside the box.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**June 5, 2004**

In the morning, Harry locked up his door and headed down the stairs to the exit door. Once on the sidewalk, he caught sight of a Chevrolet parked further down the street. The front doors opened and Goyle came out.

_Oh yes, I forgot, the rest of my things. _

Harry stayed at bay and raised his voice, addressing Goyle as he would a friend :

"Did you miss me ?"

Goyle looked at him, impassive, and Harry wanted to laugh.

But suddenly, the back door opened and Pansy got out of the car like a tornado.

"What ?" he let out in a surprised whisper.

Pansy threw herself at Harry and told him pouting:

"You left without telling me !"

Harry looked at her and then lifted his eyes toward Goyle. The girl took his hand.

"Come everyone's waiting for you."

Did he miss an episode?

When he came next to the car, he made out Draco inside, on the front seat, quiet, his eyes fixed on the windshield. Finally, Zabini picked his head out behind and said:

"It's Snape."

A mysterious message from their former professor had alarmed Draco who had dragged off all his team at the man's demand, Harry included. This unexpected rendez-vous was wearing McCarthy's mark all over it, Harry would have bet his lifeon it. The Elders had left at the same time as them and should havealready been on the premises. Here they were on their way to the EMD*, an old cinema in East London. The building had closed the previous year and remainedunoccupied since.

In the car, Pansy had told Harry the discovery of her first films over there, with Draco and Snape. At first, Snape had been reluctant: it was a silly concept, to gather in the dark to watch old grainy black and white picture shows. So primitive. But surprisingly, it had felt like looking at a strange, antique pensieve, the still images sucking them inside the film without any higher power but that of the mind. They took a liking to these showings, and decided to go each time the films were accompanied by the famous organ of the cinema. Good memories.

But why Snape had given them rendez-vous there ?

They arrived in front of the façade with its art deco windows, the street deserted, the windows blackened and covered with posters pasted the ones above the others, preventing the light from entering. Draco's eyes roved over the façade, filled with nostalgia. It had to ache, seeing the state of the building, probably recalling the old times.

What were they doing here ? Where were the Elders?

It was Goyle who entered the door. Against all odds, it opened without difficulty.

They advanced on the red carpet and were all astounded to enter in a luminous and clean hall. The decor was baroque. In front of them, at the center, a white hexagonal ticket office, almost yellow under the warm light. Mirrors adorned the walls, some of them unfortunately broken, like a hitch in the middle of all this beauty.

Zabini and Nott came in front of the pop corn and soda machines : they were all-working. The place seemed to have come back to life, it was almost frightening. Nott helped himself to a big box of pop corn and Pansy's face lightened up. He filled himself a cup of coke, followed by Zabini. Draco scowled at them like he would children. They weren't here to play.

They went upstairs and entered the auditorium. It looked like an old theatre, with its balcony, his high ceilings and its chandeliers. Walls were decorated in places with artdeco arabesques, the details remarkable. The seats were bright red, some rows burst. Harry looked up and noticed the cross-shaped mouldings on the ceiling. They walked down the stairs : in front of them, the stage was huge, long golden curtains were covering the screen. The organ was still there, next to the stage, but several keys were missing.

The Elders were nowhere to be seen. The place was empty. So silent.

Harry had an uneasy feeling about this. It smelled fishy. Draco seemed to have the same hunch : he took out his gun and kept it along his body.

Suddenly, the curtains on the stage parted and in front of the screen appeared Severus Snape, half-hidden in the corner in his dark clothes, the Elders, Sammy a bit further, and other people Harry had never seen before.

Draco looked at them, dumbstruck, then all yelled as one voice :

" Happy birthday !"

Draco gasped and let out a laugh while Pansy bounced behind him, clapping wildly.

"What… ?" the blonde blurted out, taken aback.

Eyes wide opened and a confused smile plastered across his face, he turned to Zabini who stood on the same step as him :

"Is it… ? I didn't even notice the date with everything that happened… "

Zabini gave him a little tap in the back.

"Well mate, it's for you ! Happy birthday."

Draco turned toward the stage and walked down the stairs while Snape already made his way to him. When they met in the bottom of the staircase, both hugged.

"Severus, I should kill you for this. You put the worst fears in my head."

Snape looked at him with a little grin and told him with his silky voice :

"You're not the only one who knows how to put on a show."

Draco turned and looked around him.

"How did you do all this ?"

Snape said in a detached tone :

" Pronouncing your name sufficed to open the doors," Snape answered in a detached tone. "Believe me, it didn't require much effort from me."

Draco nodded with a skeptical air, without losing his smile. While the other guests started to climb up the stairs to wish him a good birthday, he kissed Snape on the cheek, his hand on his shoulder and thanked him in a low voice. His friends and acquaintances crowded him one by one, cheering loudly.

Harry had stayed at the top of the stairs, as an observer, hands in his jean's pockets. His face was close and sullen.

_Draco's birthday._

_Much ado about nothing._

Harry wished he had never met the blonde at this instant, therefore, celebrating his birthday was not in his plans.

He walked up to the main hall and glanced distractedly at his reflection in the mirror. When he saw the purple mark on his cheek, he downcast his eyes to look at the red carpet at his feet and moved on.

He went down the few steps leading to the ticket office and turned around the booth. He ended up opening the door and settled behind the big window, as if expecting clients. Rummaging around, he inspected the drawers, but there was nothing to see, so he just sat there, elbow on the tablet, his cheek on his fist like a bored kid. Then, suddenly, the door opened. It was Snape.

Harry's head snapped up and Snape looked at his bruise with a little grimace. Harry turned around, his profile hiding the mark. Snape said nothing and Harry was grateful for that. The man in black went to seat on the chair next to him. In front of the window, they both made a pair of strange ticket clerks.

"It's McCarthy who asked you to make me come here."

Snape didn't deny and said:

"These last days were difficult I presume."

Harry simply nodded.

In front of his silence, Snape continued:

"Draco can be harsh sometimes. You need to understand the world he lives is a world apart, with its own rules. He bears responsibilities you can't even fathom. It is a lot of pressure for such young shoulders." He paused and then said, stressing the words: "Do not judge him."

Harry didn't know why, but Snape's presence brought out all the emotions accumulated, making them flow at the surface like a torrent, and tears began to roll on his cheeks by their own accord. He wiped them with his hand but it didn't stop.

Snape softly said " Harry… ", then put his hand on his shoulder. The contact broke Harry who swooped down on him and put his head against his chest. Harry hooked his tight hands like fists on Snape's black shirt and let himself completely go, his sobs amplifying. Snape didn't know how to react at first, probably unused to this kind of effusion, but with a hesitant hand, he began smoothing Harry's hair down to appease him. Seeing Snape in such a tender embrace was an unusual occurrence, but Harry was too overwhelmed to even realize it. A minute passed before Harry pulled himself together. He sniffed and whispered a hoarse "sorry".

After a few seconds, Harry still not speaking, Snape tried to reason him again:

" Draco wants to change, you know it as I do. And you are the only one who can help him."

Harry looked at him, eyes still shiny, pensive.

How could he help Draco when they were fighting each other ?

Harry wiped his face again then said :

"You know about Flint ?"

Snape looked perplexed.

"They killed him. They discovered he was a spy."

Snape lowered his eyes with no more reaction. Harry resumed :

"There's been an ambush. Nothing to do with McCarthy."

"Don't let yourself be fooled."

Harry frowned. " No, it was Ellis, he… »

Snape cut him short :

"I didn't think he would go this far, but as soon as I heard the rumors about the ambush and the escape, I knew. If Ellis heard about Draco's plans, you can be sure it is the work of McCarthy. A messenger, an anonymous phone call… "

Harry lost his temper, refusing to see the situation straight :

"What are you talking about ? I know he doesn't hold Draco dear to his heart, but to go as far as killing him! He wouldn't risk his career !"

Snape corrected him:

"You don't know McCarthy. He is obsessive and neurotic. He and his crew couldn't bear to see Draco steal their business right under their nose. Besides, McCarthy has suffered a few reversals of fortune. It has tarnished his reputation. "

"You're talking about Lucius."

Snape stared at him a second and asked:

"You know ?"

Harry nodded and Snape went on :

"After this affair, McCarthy became even more vindictive. Lucius had ridiculed them and slipped through their fingers. Then, Draco put the enterprise back together. From then, it escalated. McCarthy made it personal. And then, there was Astoria."

"What does that have to do with?"

"Astoria was working for Division 8, she was supposed to testify against Draco, but she disappeared not long before the trial. McCarthy is convinced Draco murdered her, which is utterly false."

Harry sighed :

"Lucius ?"

"The sins of the father will fall on the son," Snape said in a solemn voice.

Of course, these words in his mouth implied so many things. Was it a way for him to make amends? Maybe it was. Harry didn't know. And at that moment, it wasn't important.

"McCarthy won't give up, he will fight tooth and nail until Draco bites the dust," concluded Snape.

Harry dithered. The affair was more serious than he had thought.

"If what you're saying is true, how can I keep going ? I saw a face of Draco I hate, yes, but for nothing in the world would I wish his death ! So what? I can't give McCarthy the weapon to shoot him down."

"You will know what to do," Snape answered wisely.

Harry erupted:

"No! No! That's the thing, I don't know what to do! My hands are tied ! It's a nightmare ! I have two lives between my hands, and if I choose one, I'll sacrifice the other."

"Why should you choose ?"

Snape's voice so calm and wise it became irritating. Harry was growing fed up with these cryptic answers.

"Because they're making me !" he retorted.

"Harry. You'll know what to do," Snape insisted. With that, he rose to leave but Harry asked him one last question :

"That's why you didn't tell me about him?" Snape turned around. " Lucius. You were afraid my choice would be biased, like Flint."

Snape put on a strange grin, then said before leaving :

"Don't do the same mistake. Draco is not Lucius." In the doorway, he added without turning back: "The film is about to start. You don't want to miss it."

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry headed straight to the empty balcony, far from the little assembly downstairs, and sat on one of the chairs in one of the middle rows, pulling up his knees to place his feet on the back of the seat in front of him. He could hear voices and laughter coming from the orchestra stalls.

Draco wouldn't even notice his absence.

The lights went out. Harry welcomed the darkness that enveloped him like a protective coat, carrying him out of the world, out of time. The projection began and he felt himself relax on his chair. The title appeared on the screen :_ "Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious"._

The story of the film started to unfold and Harry gave a stifled laugh. It was the last straw: a film noir with Ingrid Bergman as a spy and Cary Grant as the agent who recruits her.

The film continued and Harry let himself be caught up by the story.

As if he were given a signal, Draco entered during the famous scene of the kiss where Grant and Bergman kiss in a close-up for long minutes.

Harry felt his presence immediately, his hairs standing on end. Even so, he didn't make a move. It was Draco who came to him and sat on the seat next to his. Harry lowered his feet and straightened up, keeping his eyes on the screen, the beautiful faces of the actors invading the screen, constantly touching, talking in the kiss without leaving each other. The grainy sound had this charm that all the old black and white mofs possessed.

Ingrid Bergman: _"This is a very strange love affair."_

Cary Grant : _"Why ?"_

"_Maybe the fact that you don't love me."_

Draco was sitting still and Harry was trying to focus on the film as best he could.

"_When I don't love you, I'll let you know."_

"_You haven't said anything."_

"_Actions speak louder than words."_

Harry wasn't expecting Draco to stay like that, so still and quiet. They both watched the film in silence, the projection's beam of light skimming the air above their heads.

Harry was deeply touched by the film : he shared Ingrid Bergman's fears when she was thrown into Claude Rains' clutches, and at the same time, the tortured love story brought back his feelings for Draco to the surface. He felt as if the film was only speaking to him.

Ingrid Bergman : _"Oh you love me ! Why didn't you tell me before?"_

Cary Grant : "_I know. But I couldn't see straight or think straight. I was a fatheaded guy, full of pain. It tore me up not having you."_

"_Oh, you love me. Oh, you love me."_

"_Long ago. All the time, since the beginning."_

Harry's hand rested on the arm of the chair. Suddenly, he felt something warm brushing his skin. He made a quiet gasp. Draco had put his hand over his. They weren't looking at each other, eyes riveted on the screen, but Harry's body and heart were bursting with intensity. How a simple touch could provoke such heat? It was as though all his senses were converging to his hand. Harry contained his shaking, trying to keep still. He didn't want Draco to feel him responding to the touch.

"I'm sorry."

There was a catch in Draco's voice, and Harry's throat constricted. His feelings were still confusing, but Harry was not ready to give in. He pulled his hand away.

"I know you'll probably never forgive me, but I care about you."

Harry answered nothing. He wanted to believe in Draco's words, but he knew they could never be together. Their story was doomed since the beginning.

Ingrid Bergman : _"Oh, don't ever leave me."_

Cary Grant : _"You'll never get rid of me again."_

"_Never tried to."_

Harry had deceived himself to believe in a spectacular escape with Draco, running together to Remus' rescue, braving the Division and the gangs around, but it was only a childish dream.

Draco was so close to him and yet so far.

"I need you."

The words had been barely whispered, but Harry had heard them loud and clear.

As the words "The End" appeared onscreen, he felt a hand sweetly brush his cheek. The caress sent him shivers. The light came back, and Harry's eyes squinted under the brutality of its brightness.

When he turned aside, Draco was already up. Harry followed him with his eyes then left his seat in turn. When he started to head toward the orchestra stall, he found a silent, still room.

A few steps further down, Draco was still descending.

"What is it ?" Draco asked.

Snape and the Elders were standing still, their faces grave and pale.

"You look like you've seen a ghost…"

A well-known laughter answered him. Draco swirled around and his face fell. Harry followed his gaze.

There, in front of the screen, the man once so dreaded, seated in a wheelchair. The voice, dark and distinguished, sprung out and echoed in the vast room :

"Happy birthday, son."

* * *

* The EMD is a real location. I wanted to find a real, disused theatre or cinema since it is part of Draco, Snape and Pansy's discovery of Muggle London. I don't know, it felt important. It closed in 2003 so it fitted the dates perfecly. Of course, the reopening and the projection are completely unrealistic but well, it's Draco we're talking about, so nothing's impossible...


	15. A Poisoned Gift?

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The great Avenalanon. Any mistake left is mine.

* * *

**CHAPTER 14 : A POISON****ED GIFT ?**

"Happy birthday, son."

Lucius sat before them, perched upon an electric wheelchair, two well built men at his service on each side.

Draco stared at him, white as a sheet and eyes wide as though he were hallucinating.

"Well, what a welcome!" Lucius exclaimed with a large smile, his voice and his expression so self-assured that he seemed to dominate the assembly.

"What are you doing here?" Draco snapped, disdainful.

"I didn't want to miss the party," Lucius answered, still smiling.

" No, _what are you doing here_ ? »

Lucius lifted his eyebrows, amusing himself taking the sick joke up another level.

"What? No embrace? No tears? Fine, I will accept your amazement then."

With his wheelchair's joystick, he moved toward them, the wheels sliding on the red carpet. He observed the room, his eyes embracing the place's architecture. While contemplating the decor, he said :

"A little mouse told me you suffered a few reversals of fortune lately. I thought I could offer you my support."

Draco stared at him with dark eyes.

"I don't need you."

Lucius played the surprise :

"Are you really certain you don't ? Your men don't seem to share the same view."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Nott and Zabini who lifted their shoulders with incomprehension.

Then, he turned his eyes to the Elders, and their attitude was way different. MacNair and Greyback withstood his stare with an air of defiance and the Lestrange brothers kept a defensive stance.

So they had kept contact with Lucius…

Draco looked at the other guests and announced loudly :

"Would you excuse us, but we have to talk. Thank you for coming."

The guests left the room with disappointed whispers.

Snape and Harry stayed put as thought their presence went without saying. They could feel the settling of scores coming. Pansy had backed up to meet Harry on a higher step, getting away from the stage.

Lucius began addressing Draco with a mock apologetic tone:

"You shouldn't have interrupted the party for me."

Draco didn't allow himself be distracted and asked :

"It's been a while. You came to mess with us?"

Lucius kept a light tone.

"I'm just here to protect my interests."

But Draco wasn't joking and was getting more upset by the second. "What are you talking about? YOU ARE DEAD, remember ?"

Lucius gave out a frightening smile. "It's true, I tend to forget it. Hm, it was very unpleasant, I assure you."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure the poor fellow you put inside that car must be rolling in_ your_ grave. Tell me, by what trick did you pull that off ?"

Lucius exaggerated each of his facial expressions as if it was all a farce to him.

" Ah, you're amazed. True, this mascarade made quite an impression." He outstretched his arms as though making a bow. "The price of my disappearance."

He put back his arms on the wheelchair's arms and tapped his hands against it.

"I risked my all. But the rumour was true…" He massaged his stiff nape with his hand. " …those little microchips are well implanted. Better not to play with it, believe me. My surgeon was an ace but he had his limits too." He sighed with over exaggeration ." Oh, after all, I had nothing to lose, really… Well, almost nothing."

He concluded with emphasis:

"And voilà !"

Draco snapped:

"Good, thank you for your visit, now you may leave."

"Why, we finally found each other and you already want to get ready of me."

Draco pinned him with his eyes, on his guard from the beginning. Their eyes were throwing flames at each other and Lucius seemed tremendously amused by their little face-to-face.

"Oh yes Draco, I know you've been looking for me all this time. Well, I'm back, and yet, you don't seem happy to see me. I don't understand you."

"I just wanted to make sure you would never set a foot here again."

Lucius took a pained look:

" Are those the words a son should have for his father ? What did I do to inspire such hatred in you?"

Then, his features slowly morphed into a conniving look, his eyes full of maliciousness. Draco peered at him with a more and more flagrant despise.

"You know exactly what you've done. You're sick. I have no father anymore, no…"

Lucius sighed and moved his chair again to position himself right in front of the organ. He put his fingers on the keys and played a few notes : a macabre and dramatic air resounded. Lucius laughed.

"Let's stop this ridiculous melodrama. I know I have made mistakes."

At this word, Draco lowered his head and let out a disdainful huff, to which Lucius answered :

"Yes, I lost my head. But you should know now what being a leader entails. Have you not felt this pressure, this thirst for power, this immoderate pride?"

Draco shot him a look under his blond strands. Lucius guessed he hadn't missed the mark.

"Yes, you've tasted it." Lucius wheeled his chair back in front of him. "But I've had years ahead of me to think. I had built a prosperous business, you will admit, and if my madness hadn't got the better of me, I would have done wonders, at your side." His voice had turned seductive, seeking to convince Draco.

On the higher steps, Harry contemplated his brilliant act. Yes, Lucius knew how to captivate an audience.

"You and me, we could accomplish great things."

There was a silence then. Lucius had made his point and was probably waiting for his son to bow to his will, but Harry knew Draco wouldn't back off that easily. Indeed, Draco finally reacted:

"It's true I had some difficulties recently, but I will put the Organization back on the right track. I don't need anyone, least of all you."

Lucius flashed him an intent smile, then his eyes slowly shifted to fall on Harry.

Harry froze. Lucius' steal grey eyes had slid toward him like a snake, preventing him from breathing as if the man could smother him by his own will. Draco quickly glanced at Harry, following his father's attention while Harry swallowed, apprehensive. Lucius was a conniving man who liked to play with people's minds, and they both knew that Harry wouldn't be spared .

"I heard there was a new member in your team." Lucius tilted his head to the side in a parody of sweetness. " Harry, it's been so long. I must confess I was surprised by the news. Our fallen savior has joined our ranks… An unexpected, but thrilling new development."

Harry felt the tension rise inside him. He didn't want to let himself be attacked again, nor let himself fooled by smooth talking. He tried to keep his head clear and only said as a greeting :

" Lucius."

The man kept his eyes on Harry while addressing Draco :

"I know Harry doesn't approve your stubborn attitude." Lucius' eyes were almost glinting. "He needs to feel safe, don't you Harry ?"

Harry didn't appreciate Lucius speaking for himself, slyly, as though he were on his side. Besides, he also had the unpleasant sensation that Lucius was very much aware of his inglorious past and knew all the details of the recent events in the cottage.

So he chose to stay quiet. It was Draco who stepped into the breach :

"Stay out of it."

Lucius smiled. He knew about their liaison of course. The Elders had surely announced it to him and Harry suspected the news had come as a bombshell. Harry could sense the same aversion in the patriarch's eyes that was omnipotent in the could pretend whatever he wanted, Harry knew well that Lucius would never accept his presence next to Draco and within the Organization. It remained to see what Lucius had exactly in mind. Count on him to have planned everything.

Draco concluded :

"I think you'd better go. You're not welcome here."

But Lucius showed no anger or disapproval. In fact, not once did he seem destabilized since his apparition. He continued on a pleasant tone:

"Allow me at least to give you my gift before you send me away."

Draco remained still and silent. Then, realizing that Draco was expecting the object in question, Lucius chuckled.

" Oh, it is way too big for me to bring it here." He turned to the others and instructed "Follow me," in the most casual way. But Draco kept his position.

"What do you take me for ? You believe I'll trust you that easily."

"Why, you think I'm hiding a weapon under my chair. Even if I had an army outside, I'm not sure my condition would permit me to go far. But if you're too scared -"

"I'm not afraid of you!"

"Then what's the problem ?"

Draco scoffedand sarcastically retorted :

"Walking around with a supposedly dead terrorist ? No, really, no problem."

"You're underestimating me. I covered my back, and you'd be surprised to see how uncaring people tend to act around you when you are… disabled. The shame of curiosity, the fear of the handicap... Some go as far as thinking they are better than us. A mark of weakness and stupidity from them."

"And you think cops will lower their eyes too when they'll see you."

"You worry about me now? Well, with modern technology, I can handle my business from indoors. My travels are secured and with my boys here… " He titled his head toward the two men escorting him,"… I'm safe."

Draco whirled around himself, annoyed. The other had a response to everything.

" I don't even know why we're discussing this. I have no intention to follow you. You're trying to win me back but you're wasting your time. You'll have to manage on your own."

Lucius retorted, this time openly treacherous :

"I don't think you understand. I don't need you, you need me. Your affairs have gone down hill, you're deluding yourself ! You kept your men in the dark but I'm well-informed. The police raid and the fall out from Reading's shooting have been catastrophic! He smirked. "And by the way, I should thank you for keeping my house… You certainly kept good care of it."He rolled his chair closer to Draco, dead serious now:. "You attracted unwanted attention, do you even know what is going to happen now? Division 8 will come down on you. You think they didn't hear about your exploits? They're closer than ever."

Harry fidgeted then, afraid Lucius knew more about him than what he was letting on. The man kept biting out at his son, getting more and more wound up:

"Are you aware that not a soul wants to deal with you anymore! You're bad news Draco… You weren't up to the task. And at this point, I don't think you can afford to refuse my help. "

Draco had taken everything in without protesting but Harry could see he was seething inside. Draco didn't need his father to lecture him. Draco cocked an eyebrow and defied Lucius:

"Oh yeah, well look at me."

He turned on his heels and took a step when MacNair horned in.

"Draco, he's right," he said with his deep voice.

Draco stared at him, with a betrayed expression. His look shifted to the others in the room, but he was forced to acknowledge that no one had intervened to take his defense. He addressed the only one who could advise him knowingly:

"Severus ?"

Snape was standing in the corner of the orchestra, his arms crossed and a thoughtful look marring his features as if assessing the situation.

"I must admit my curiosity is peaked," he said. "If it is another trick, we can still throw him overboard."

Draco would have laughed outright if he weren't on alert, his eyes quickly falling on his father's face again, trying to see through him. Lucius knew then that he had won.

"My dear Severus," he said in a delighted tone," shall I understand that you will do us the honour of your company ?"

"With pleasure, Lucius. We have so much time to catch on."

Of course, Snape wouldn't miss the show, if only to measure himself with the prodigal father.

"Certainly. I cannot wait to hear about your adventures and how you landed in that colourful little suburb shop."

"You know me, I've always enjoyed a good challenge. And since you're talking about adventures, you could explain to me how you got your sanity back. From what I remember, it was far from won."

Snape used the same ambiguous tone and fake politeness as his counterpart. Harry felt like watching a match : they were both acting like two adversaries ina ring. Two men of the same caliber who knew the rules of the game by heart and mastered the art of dissimulation like no other.

Lucius only stared at Snape with a smirk. Then, without averting his eyes:

" Harry, I'm counting on you too."

This hailing was a disguised order. Lucius had plans for him.

"If you insist," Harry calmly answered.

Lucius smiled, his look too confident. Everything was calculated.

Draco was already heading up the stairs and passed in front of Harry without a look, eyes flickering, surely tossing a thousand thoughts through his mind. This surprise had definitely thrown a veil over their future. Lucius wouldn't let them escape him. He was back with an uproar and he wouldn't leave by the back door.

The wheels of Lucius' chair stopped in front of the stairway.

" It's a shame," he noted. "This city is an assault course."

He clapped twice in his hands and the two burly men, who had been standing back, rushed to his side to lift up the chair, stabilizing it as much as possible.

They kept on climbing, the Lestranges clearing the way. Harry pushed himself aside too. He observed the men in full effort and Lucius on his throne-like chair. Even though the ascension was unsteady, his haughty expression didn't once desert his face. Harry knew Lucius felt in no way diminished by his handicap. If possible, he looked even more full of himself than before.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Once out of their respective cars, Draco and his gang waited for Lucius' wheelchair to move off the car's lift onto the pavement. The little electrical sound stopped.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off his former adversary. Flanked by his two squared, obedientescorts, Lucius had pulled his large black hood on, but beneath it, his eyes were triumphant. His hood was thinner and a bit shorter than his former death eater's costume, but it covered a good part of his face and it was more than a little disturbing. His state certainly took nothing away from his imposing presence.

They were in the City, in the middle of the business district. In the distance, Harry noticed the statue of a dragon, the emblem of the City, and the majestic creature with its wings spread open made him think about his former lover. He wondered if it was a sign of fate. Draco's presence here felt almost natural. After all, he was a business man in his own way.

They arrived before a choice five story building, its façade pristine, the tinted widows reflecting the urban landscape. Lucius turned his chair to face the group, blocking their way.

"So, what do you think ?"

Draco looked at him with a perplex expression.

"It's for you," Lucius proudly announced.

He moved the chair's joystick and entered the revolving doors with his two men. Draco turned his stare at Snape, then MacNair, but they were as confused as him. The finally entered the building.

Inside, Lucius was speakingwith a man in a uniform just outside the security room. The man headed to the elevators and activated them with a key before returning to his post. Lucius placed himself in front of the doors, waiting for them to open, acting as if the gang would naturally follow. Draco found his bearings back and caught up with his father:

"What is this? You bought offices ?"

"You have to think big," Lucius simply stated.

_Ting_

The elevator's doors opened. Lucius motioned to his men to stay in the hall.

"If you want your organization to regain its former glory, you have to make a fresh start… "

The elevator was big enough to contain the whole group, but Draco wouldn't budge. Each of his men stayed put, waiting for his signal.

Lucius was already inside now and maneuvered his machine to face Draco, quietly waiting for him to join him. Draco pinned him with his eyes.

"I don't want to change anything. I don't want to work with you, get it ?"

"Then so be it. I won't force you to associate with me in any way, I told you so. But this is all yours."

Draco shook his head energically.

"I don't want it."

Lucius narrowed his eyes, a grin on his face.

"Aren't you even a bit curious ? Don't you want to see the rest ?"

A pause.

Lucius watched each of them.

And this time, to everyone's surprise, it's Harry who took the first step. He wanted to see what the bargain entailed, to understand what Lucius was plotting. For once that he was at the forefront, he was curious to discover the stake. Besides, if they left now, Lucius would find another way to get Draco in his clutches. Might as well take the lead and end the suspense now.

He hopped in the elevator, but no one followed him, not even Pansy who stayed put at Draco's sides. Harry didn't have the power of decision here, so he just waited. Draco sighed then and looked at Harry with a perplexed gaze, trying to comprehend his behavior. Nevertheless, he took a step in and moved right next to Harry. The brunet tensed on the spot. It was so strange to stand next to him and pretend to be impassive. But he also felt a smug satisfaction at Draco's reaction: he had followed him.

Draco's change of course drew everyone along behind him. One by one, they entered the elevator.

The doors closed and a jazzy music engulfed the lift's shaft. Not unpleasant but completely off-key with all the tensionthat hung in the air.

_Ting_

They landed on the first floor and walked down the long corridor with its shiny new blue carpet. Behind the big glass panes, a vast open space. A dozen desks equipped with brand new computers and phones.

Lucius moved along, his electric wheelchair humming in the corridor.

"The phone lines are ready. On your left, the accounts departments. On your right, communication and marketing… Here, a meeting room."

Draco didn't look impressed and bit out :

"May I remind you that we're not bureaucrats. This is not a multinational!"

While speaking, they entered the second elevator at the other end of the corridor.

Lucius continued:

"That's where you're limiting yourself. You have to think bigger. I'm not talking about real employees. No, we're going to develop a dummy company, a cover for our operations. Capital laundering. You can't keep playing the low life gangster. The organized crime has evolved. We can build up a real enterprise, legally covered. No more improvised meetings and unsafe hideouts, but a real structure behind our business."

It sounded like a commercial and it didn't escape Draco. The blonde wasn't fooled by his father's sudden reconversion. He didn't believe a word of it.

"So you've changed into a real business man now. You want me to believe you mellowed? That you don't seek revenge anymore ?"

He leaned over his father and whispered with blatant sadism:

"Aren't you itching for it, hm? Just a little bomb…When you see all those muggles strutting out there, taunting you?" He put his hands on Lucius' armrests. "Huh, you on your poor wheelchair."

Lucius withstood his stare without blinking. No emotion, and still a light smile on his lips. Unbreakable.

Draco knew his tactic had failed. He slowly straightened up. His voice quiet and clear, he said :

" I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work with me. You're planning to set me up? You're still the same monster behind your new disguise."

Draco looked at him with crushing despise, but yet, Lucius looked sincere when he retorted gravely:

"You're wrong Draco, I had plenty of time to think, about me, what I did and what I didn't, what I should have done... I'm trying to change. I'll _prove_ to you that I've changed."

He turned the joystick for his chair to face Draco fully and added:

"I want you to give me a second chance."

Draco gritted his teeth.

"You already got your second chance and you wasted it."

Lucius didn't let go, pushing more and more :

"Then, give me another one ! I want to make our capital flourish. You know I'm good at it. I've gone so far, and then…" A flicker of sadness crossed his eyes. "I made mistakes, it's true. But I paid the price. I lost everything." He gulped. "I lost you."

Lucius was practically begging him. The sight was unsettling. No one knew where to put themselves in front of this outpouring.

Lucius finally turned his chair toward Snape, his winning smile back on his face.

"Well, Severus. You're Draco's mentor, always the wise man. I know how close your ties with Draco have grown in my absence and how your opinion matters to him. What do you say? I know it's not your usual scenery… "

Snape cut him off:

"You're trying too hard."

Lucius chuckled and insisted in a loud voice:

"Severus, I genuinely want to know your opinion. Do you trust me?"

Snape looked at him, then at Draco. The young man was hanging to his lips, waiting for his answer. Harry was eagerly waiting too. The somber looking man remained stone-faced.

"I don't know."

The answer came out as a shock. Snape never showed any hesitation or doubt.

"I don't question your love for your son, I question your sanity. What will you sacrifice again in the name of your madness."

Draco's eyes fell to the floor, pained and unfocused. It was the pained look of a lost boy and Harry wished at this moment they could be together again, just to hold him in his arms.

"I'm not the man I used to be. I'm making amends," Lucius resumed, soft-spoken.

Harry, of all people, knew that people deserved a second chance. He had fallen once, and now, he was trying to do the right thing. But he couldn't take it on himself to trust Lucius. Maybe he was prejudiced against the man, but there was something in Lucius' eyes that brought tingles down his back.

_Ting._

Second floor.

Lucius was inexhaustible. His strong and determined voice sprang out from the doors:

"We can rebuild an empire. You and me."

Lucius's oratorical talents didn't cease to impress Harry, because there was no doubt in his mind that was it was all it was: words. It couldn't be any other way.

But Draco's resolve wasn't as unaffected. His expression was less guarded already.

_Yes, really good at getting his way. _

They walked out the elevator's doors, following Lucius on his chair like a little cortege, sometimes whispering, confused, but attentive.

"The directors' offices. Your offices," stated Lucius.

Several rooms before them, doors opened. They were simply decorated with luxurious pieces of furniture : leather seats, quality desks and shelves.

Harry was looking at the rooms when he heard Pansy's little voice next to him:

"I'm bored…"

She was playing with the carpet with her feet, following the long lines and scratching at the corners. Harry put a sympathizing hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. These offices weren't his scene either. It looked cold, and soulless, so different from the cottage.

At the other side of the corridor, a big meeting room with a long black table. They entered. A big video screen in front. Then, Lucius pushed a button on a black device and declared with a loud voice :

"We can start."

Then, the screen lit up and faces appeared, multiplying on the screen now divided in six different frames.

A recoil movement. The image's apparition had been striking. All these unknown faces blankly staring at them.

Lucius greeted his guests.

" This is our contacts : Adrien Thuilliet, Paris. Karl Berg, Berlin. Laurent Liesse, Brusells. Niels Larsen, Copenhaguen. Manolo Del Rio, Madrid. Filipo Giovenitti, Rome. Declan Grady, Belfast."

Lucius glanced at Snape, with a haughty look as though this little display somehow gave him more credit. Each man behind the screen said a word or made a sign after being introduced. Harry had tried to remember each name by reflex, even though he didn't know where he stood with his mission. However, Lucius' presence put the situation in perspective. Harry craved to neutralize him, and if McCarthy heard of his return in London, there was a chance Draco would be relegated to the second rank.

Lucius proudly presented his son:

"Here is Draco, my heir. My soon-to-be associate."

The image was apparently transmitted through both ways since the men's looks had shifted to Draco's spot. Harry suddenly felt intimidated by those severe looking men and their sharp stares. As for Draco, he seemed stunned.

Harry stepped back to the doorway. He observed Lucius, his usually cold eyes shining with excitement, his son next to him. A strange family portrait.

This international exposure had to be pretty tempting to Draco and his gang. After the messy cohabitation at the cottage, the rash decisions, the recent failures, this new start was coming at a perfect timing.

Bravo Lucius.

Harry looked at the empty offices behind him while Lucius continued the presentations. The windows opened to the tall buildings and skyscrapers of the City, lights shining in the little windows like little spots in the distance. They were in the heart of the business district, they were part of the business market here. It was a whole new level.

Draco excused himself and moved behind his father's wheelchair to guide him outside.

"Since when did you plan all this ?" he asked, his voice strained.

"What do you think I've been doing all these years ? I prospected, I travelled, I worked hard, setting up deals, establishing connections. I have contacts all around Europe, and I already have a few leads for the States." Lucius' hands gripped the arms of his chair as though he wanted to lift himself up. "I knew you'd grow to be a fine and capable leader and you didn't disappoint me. But I knew you couldn't make it on your own either."

Draco shook his head. "I managed fine without you."

Lucius peered at Draco, eyes pleading. "You reached your limits Draco. You're in agony, I know it… I see it."

Draco blinked dully, seemingly touched by the words and the penetrating stare of his father. Lucius moved his chair backwards and announced suddenly excited :

"I kept the best for last."

_Ting_

Third floor.

The doors opened on a corridor worthy of a four star hotel, beautiful plants at each corner and a carpet with an elegant motif.A row of opened doors : luxurious rooms, exquisitely decorated, big TV screens hung on the walls. The sight elicited a few gasps. Pansy stepped inside a girlish room with pastel walls, gaping, her eyes sparkling. Zabini whistled while Nott made quite a show.

"You guys can do whatever you want, I'm staying!" he exclaimed, pointing down at the floor in a cool gesture.

The rooms were huge and so pristine, it felt like they had been offereda brand new hotel.

Lucius added as though he'd just forgotten:

" Oh, I let you discover the royal suite above. I think you'll appreciate."

Looking around him, Harry could see that Lucius had managed to seduce the gang.

The Elders reacted as though they deserved nothing less and looked on with appreciation. Only Snape stayed in the corner, his concern manifest. His eyes met Harry's. They knew what was going on. The change was already underway. Harry could see it. It was there, in every detail. And they seemed to be the only ones who considered how dangerous it they wouldn't voice their concerns. Of course not, because they had to keep an eye on Lucius. Not only for the mission but for the gang too. Keep your enemy close... It wouldn't do any good to interpose now. Besides, it wasn't their decision to make.

It all had happened so fast. But it was obvious the gang had no intention to go back, and that the occasion offered to them was a golden opportunity. Draco was no match for this. He had to give in.

Observing Draco, Harry noticed the way he was looking at his partners in crime. There was apprehension, but also uncertainty: Lucius' proposal didn't leave him indifferent.

Everyone scattered around, visiting the rooms. Lucius was still in front of the elevator. He knew that everything was set. Nothing else could be done.

He called out his son who turned around to face him. Lucius held out a set of keys and a badge in his hand. "It's yours now. Everything is inyour name."

Draco watched the jingling keys hanging from his father's hand, the little ring around his finger, then he slowly moved his hand forward and took the set and the badge. He closed his hand and noticed the mirthful smirk on his father's face. He didn't want Lucius to interpret this gesture as an agreement and immediately warned:

"I didn't say yes."

"I know. Take all the time you need," Lucius answered softly. "The ball is in your court, son."

Draco winced. Maybe the word sounded foreign in his ears after so many time. Or he didn't like Lucius to remind him of their affiliation.

Lucius handed him his card like a true business man. Draco took it between his fingers and his father disappeared in the elevator. Draco eyed the white card with its beautiful grain, the elegant typography, then scraped the carton's edge against his suit in a nervous gesture.

Harry was discretely observing him. He could feel the turmoil inside the blonde, he could see the conflicted emotions crossing his eyes. He knew too wellhow it felt to be torn inside.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry went down the first floor to have a moment alone, walking by the empty desks, the black screened computers all around. Silence.

He didn't know what he ought to do now. All he knew was that he was no longer to be part of the gang, not since this morning. But Lucius had insisted for him to come. It was good for the mission.

_The mission…_

But what about it ? What would he give to McCarthy ? He couldn't blindly obey the man anymore. His hands were as dirty as Draco's. Harry had to be careful with both sides from now on. He couldn't trust anyone.

Harry went to sit on the carpet, one leg outstretched and the other one folded, his back against the glass pane separating the desks from the corridor.

A few meters in front of him, the big windows opened toward the street lights and the buildings across the street. The sound of horns in the distance. The night was already falling.

Suddenly, the ceiling's neons lit up, making Harry start. Then, he heard soft footsteps approaching. He knew before he saw him that it was Draco. The blonde walked before him and stopped. Harry could feel his stare boring into his head, but he didn't look up and focused insteadon his shiny black shoes. There seemed to be an oppressive, invisible wall between them. The shoes moved. Draco rolled up his shirt's sleeves and settled right in front of Harry, a few feet away, his back against the racks of some desk. He spread his legs on the floor and ran a hand along his forehead.

The day had been heavy with emotion. Harry could hardly fathom how the blonde could feel right now. The situation was far from easy.

"They all insisted on spending the night in the new quarters."

Draco was talking like nothing had changed between them, although Harry's bruised face remained a clear testimony of his loss of control.

" Pansy was adamant. She wants to stay. Well, actually, she wants to live in her room. No need to go out, she'll do everything from there. We'll just have to bring her her meals and her magazines, make a few visits now and then." He chuckled. "She had stars in her eyes. I couldn't say no to her." His smile faltered.

Harry knew that Draco wasn't ready to accept his 'gift' yet but it wasn't in his hands anymore. Harry could perfectly picture what would happen. Pansy had already fallen in love with her room, and had begged Draco to let them stay. Zabini and Nott would insist they give it a try. The Elders were already on Lucius' side, so that was it. Lucius had done a good job.

Harry stared at Draco without a word while the blonde continued to confide in him, relentlessly. Harry hadn't any kind words for him anyway. He couldn't share anything with the man for now. It was all too fresh. Flint, the blow he haddealt him.

" Snape has left. I already feel as though I am alone in the world."Draco laughed, but it felt almost desperate. "He hasn't been so thrilled about all this. Then again, he has hardly been thrilled by any of my decisions up to this point, so..."

Undeterred by the brunet's uninterested gaze, Draco peered intensely at him.

"I don't know what do to with all this. Lucius… This project... That's the last thing I expected. I know his intentions are dubious, but it's a unique occasion. I could really do something here, don't you think ?"

Harry's silence seemed to loosen Draco's tongue, or maybe he was trying to reach him in some way?

"Why not give it a shot ?" Draco asked.

A pause while he changed position and bent his legs, hugging them against his chest.

"Lucius wants you to be part of the adventure… I agree with him. I think you have your place here."

Harry bit his lips, still attempting to ignore the man before him, looking anywhere but at Draco even though he was drinking in each of his words.

Then, Draco suddenly took his words back.

"Or maybe it's just wrong. I shouldn't trust him, right? I just… All the decisions I made…" He blinked and took his head between his hands. "Maybe he's right, I'm bad news. Everything I touch I destroy." He licked his lips and stared at Harry again. "Just tell me. Tell me what I should do."

Draco fell silent then, eyes cloudy. A few seconds later, he whispered in a strangled voice :

"Harry…"

The brunet shivered. His name, uttered like that, like a moan, made his heart ache.

Draco stretched his limbs and slowly got on all fours, crawling toward Harry. At this moment, Harry's heart was in his stomach. His mask of indifference was crackling. His heart beat quickened and he was too dazed to move. He was there, huddled up in his corner, Draco hovering over him, entrapping his prey.

Harry lowered his eyes and shriveled a bit more, shrinking on himself as if it could make a difference.

_As if you could escape him. _

He turned his head against the glass pane not to be tempted, involuntarily exposing the contusion on his cheek. He heard Draco sigh and soon he felt the blonde's hair and nose brush the contour of his face, avoiding the bruise. Harry didn't daremove, torn between the need to extricate himself from Draco and the desire to be loved and held by his lover.

Draco drew a deep breath in and Harry wondered if he was breathing his scent. Then, Draco rubbed his face in a near animal movement, and muttered, his voice transformed by the pressure of his lips on Harry's skin:

"I'm sorry."

Harry's face contorted briefly and his throat tightened. He needed to hear this, yes, but how those words could ever erase the horror of the last twenty four hours?

"I'm sorry," chanted again and again.

Draco's voice was completely breaking and Harry could hear the tears weren't far away. Such a breakdown was unexpected. Draco always kept a strong face, no matter how bad the situation.

Harry's face crumbled but he kept still, Draco completely pressed against him. Draco moved then, his soft strands caressing the brunet's face till his lips found his and caught them in a frenzied impulse.

Harry couldn't untangle himself. He wished to, but his resolve was flailing. His lips answered in spite of him, but it was a mess: he tried to pull out and then surrendered again, at loss. Draco put more passion in the kiss and took control of it, plunging his tongue between the brunet's open lips. Harry let himself go, forgetting everything to drown himself into the embrace. Then, his face closed at once. He took conscience of how wrong it was and tried to move away from Draco but the blonde was having none of it.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and took his nape to hold him in place. His hand tightened and Harry stiffened all over. There was a dangerous strength and urgency in the blonde's gestures and his body weighed more and more on his. Draco's other hand lost itself inside his tee-shirt and when it wormed its way inside his jeans, Harry gasped and writhed.

He had to put an end to the assault. It was crazy. He wasn't ready, he couldn't return the caresses, it was too soon. Draco surely knew that. He couldn't win him over like that, no. He had to suffer too. Understand the harm he did.

But Draco wouldn't let go and maintained him firmly still, his hand moving from his nape to grab his overlarge t-shirt's collar, revealing his pale shoulder.

"Stop. No," Harry blurted out, but Draco kept going, murmuring: "I'm sorry… I'm sorry."

Why wouldn't he stop? It wasn't good. Not good.

Harry pushed him with his arms, eyes wide, but the blonde had incredible strength. The strength of despair.

Draco was now sprawled between Harry's parted legs, the brunet's back painfully pressed against the glass pane. Harry opened his eyes to stare at Draco and what he saw suddenly frightened him. There was a strange glint inside the grey orbs. Draco looked so far away, he might not even hear him at this stage.

He began to unzip Harry's fly and no matter how the brunet wriggled in all directions, he kept a good hold on him.

"No ! No, stop it !" A wail came out from deep in his throat and he pushed the blonde harder, but it did nothing. Draco sucked on his neck and plunged his hand under the white boxers, but the caress was not pleasant. Harry didn't want it to happen like that.

Not with this hurt, frenetic Draco.

Not here, in this cold office, with his face bruised.

Again he said " No…" but Draco's only knew the words "Sorry, sorry…" like a broken record.

His pleas were falling on a deaf ear. Draco was too upset, there was no possible connection. The man was driven by his need to be forgiven, to feel loved and reassured. Harry didn't care. All he knew was that if Draco didn't break out of this trance, neither could recover from this.

Draco kept touching him but Harry felt no pleasure, just a great void. Draco would go through it. He was going to destroy everything. The brunet's voice broke, it was so thin :

"Please Draco, no." _Please, not this._

Draco began to lower his pants and bite his neck. That was it. Harry closed his eyes.

"Pleeeease." _No._

"Draco ?"

The voice sprang out from the corridor like a headlight in the night, and Harry opened his lips in a cry of relief. He hadn't even recognized the voice, he just knew it was his saviour.

The voice was very close now and he heard an intake of breath and a change of tone:

" Hum… I… I can come back later."

_NO !_

Although the interruption had calmed Draco, he still had to let go of Harry. He wasn't fazed but Harry couldn't wait another second. He wrenched himself off the blonde, his legs unsteady, putting his clothes back in a flash, his collar stretched wide across his shoulders. He kept his eyes on the carpet and thought he could make out the form of MacNair, but he wasn't sure. He hurried away, nearly running to the elevator, eyes brimming with tears. He frenetically pushed the call button and ten seconds later, the doors finally opened. He looked up: Zabini was inside.

No, he didn't want anyone to see him.

Harry made a quick turn and opened the door next to him. He landed on the stairwell. The door banged behind him in a big echo. Harry shivered and planted himself on one of the steps. He rubbed his face. Hard. He couldn't take it anymore.

_I take you, I throw you away, I love you, I betray you, I'm lost… Lost. Lost._

He was half-expecting it, and there it went : Zabini opened the door.

Harry turned his head away but Zabini moved closer and flattened his back on the wall next to him.

" Draco," he said without expanding further.

Harry nodded dully. Zabini sighed, ready to set things straight.

"I know what you think about us. Flint, it's a tragedy, we are aware of it. But we became thick skinned, there's no sentiment where the Organization is concerned. You're with the gang or against the gang. It's not a game, if someone betrays us, we're dead. And the Organization is family now. You're clean, Draco was firm on that and we know it now. So if someone tries to hurt you, we'll take them down, you understand?"

Harry lifted his head to him and looked straight in his eyes.

He knew Zabini was protective of him because of Draco, but he appreciated the intention anyway. He knew his recent departure and his break down was the reaction of the old Harry, the 'soldier of the Light' who had been thrown into this world of crime in spite of himself. It was so hard to close his eyes and pretend this violence didn't matter. He was supposed to fight it! But even though his position concerning McCarthy remained unclear, he had to keep the immediate stakes in head: if he was to save Remus, he had to fit in the gang and accept to play by their rules.

Zabini continued :

" Draco developed this… attachment to you. I told you, remember ? I knew how it'd go."He sighed, hands in his pockets. "Nothing is simple… But if you have the slightest feeling for him, then don't push him away. Whatever he did, don't blame him."

That was rich! Harry was about to protest but Zabini beat him to it :

"He doesn't know where he stands anymore, I can see all these events unsettle him. _You_ unsettle him. He didn't expect to become attached to someone so soon after his latest love story. What he did to you yesterday…"

He shook his head. It had been the only one to interpose that morning. He had clearly disapproved ofDraco's behavior.

"… it was inexcusable, but Draco resents himself for it. He can't change it. But what's happening now, and what will happen after, huh?" A beat. "I think he could fall in love." He erupted in a half-laugh : "It's Draco we're talking about !"

Harry sighed and looked down at his feet.

Draco… the one who had become the source of his ills, his doubts, his hatred but also his joys, his desires.

Before taking his leave, Zabini leaned over towards Harry and slid in a low voice :

"And we never talked, alright?"

He let Harry to his thoughts in the empty staircase. The brunet felt lost and angry. He slammed his fist on the wall.

_Fucking Draco. _

_._

The next day, before the entire gang, the phone call came.

" Lucius ? I accept."

Harry knew that what happened between them at the office hadpartly pushed him to agree. Draco had lost himself. To associate himself with Lucius would free him from a great weight and allow him to move on, but Harry feared Lucius would soon take over and resume his bloody and vengeful crusade. He couldn't help but see it as a capitulation.

Draco had signed a pact with the Devil.


	16. Turn Back the Lights

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon.

A/N **: **Beware, dirty talk in this chapter. If you're not a fan, skip September the 4th.

* * *

**CHAPTER 15 : TURN BACK THE LIGHTS**

The "X-Stacy".

The elevator almost blended in, recessed into the painted wall representing the old music hall's concert series' from the fifties.

Two gigantic rooms separated by a long, perfectly sound-proof wall made of translucent tiles, allowing the clients to see the other side as clearly as if they were there.

First room.

An impressive platform covered with white shiny tiles. Two big staircases at each side of the stage. A large bar further away. Little round tables with chairs surrounded the stage. Spacious black velvet sofas in half-circles against the walls.

A cabaret atmosphere, with red drapes at the bottom of the stage and around the doors' frame, intertwined with golden ropes. It was easy to picture the stripteases and sexy shows that could take place here.

An upper floor with boxes on the right and left, and a sizeable VIP lounge on the center.

Second room.

A dance floor practically occupied all the space, with turntables for the DJ, podiums for dancers. A bar at the opposite end. White leather lounge areas scattered about the room. A more conventional club where everything was centered on music and release. Long design garlands with white balls hung from the ceiling.

"Lights!"

The stroboscopes were set in motion in both rooms. The stage's tiles lit up, the white glow turning reddish against the blood tone of the spotlights, the white decorations almost orange now around the dance floor.

Red everywhere. The light filters created an infernal and sexy atmosphere.

this was one of Lucius' extravagant investments. Lucius wanted to transform the nightclub into a den for their associates and their clients. The launch was planned for the end of the month.

Draco and the Elders were there with Pansy who was looking around in wonder.

Lucius seemed very proud of his new acquisition.

"Harry, what do you think?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, surprised that Lucius was interested in his opinion.

"Er… seems nice." He immediately tried to make up for his insipid remark, "Hum… The location is good, the deco is nice, but it will all depend on the music and the performances. The club needs an identity, something that will make it unique."

Lucius smiled, and Harry knew something was coming.

"I'm glad you're reacting this way. You see, I decided to put you in charge of the club."

Harry was certain it was a joke and he looked at Lucius to detect the mockery, or any bad intention he might have, but there was none apparent.

Lucius was serious.

"I know you have experience with this kind of scene, you know people, you know how it works..." continued Lucius.

Harry felt naked in front of him, as though his past was being thrown again in his face. But Lucius' words weren't scornful. Yet, it would have been easy for him to take advantage of the situation and demean him. Harry was at least grateful for that.

"It is a risky bet, but I know you won't disappoint me."

Still dumbstruck, Harry dully asked, "Me?"

He searched Draco with his eyes, curious for his reaction.

_Damn…_

It was like he still needed his approval, an unconscious need to satisfy him.

Whatever he felt, Draco's strong look gave him more confidence. He could read in it, 'Everything will be fine.'

Had Lucius and he discussed it? Who had made this decision? And in either case, was the offer genuine?

Lucius added, "That way, you won't be involved with the more… political side of the Organization. I believe some aspects of our jobs are not to your liking. I think you will fit in better here."

At least the situation was clear. Whether it was to spare him or not, one thing was certain: he was being taken out of the action.

Nobody twitched.

The affair had definitely been decided beforehand.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Lucius had found men to second him and to take care of the promotion around the opening night. Harry had to recruit artists and waiters, and take the organization of the soirées in hand. Lucius had already engaged a few girls, though Harry feared the nightclub would transform into a whorehouse. They hadn't talked about it, but Harry had no intention of filling it with the likes of common prostitutes. He knew Lucius would eventually have the last say, nevertheless there was no way he would let the place become a vulgar sex club. So he had taken it upon himself to dig out young talents who would add a more serious and artistic note to the club.

In any case, he was beginning to enjoy his new role. He felt like he could finally breathe. The contact he had with the gang had greatly reduced since the new assignment of tasks. The Elders were occupied with the restructuring, forced to set new rules and forge links between the old and the latest associates. Draco, Nott and Zabini were going to meeting after meeting.

Lucius took Draco with him wherever he went and pushed him to make as many contacts as possible, to commit himself fully to the new organization. His network grew bigger by the day. Harry had trouble keeping an eye on him, and it displeased him. It put the mission in jeopardy. Nothing to do with his own peace of mind. That's what he was trying to convince himself of anyway.

Draco came home every night more tired than the day before, but Harry felt that it was a good fatigue. There was no trace of the despondent air he had at the villa. He wasn't isolated anymore, and the group was more solid than ever. As crazy as it sounded, Lucius' presence seemed to have a positive effect on everyone, even though the ramifications of his return and the secrets behind his plans were yet to be known, like an invisible threat above their heads.

**June 18, 2004**

MacNair had come to the X-Stacy under Lucius' orders to watch the advancement of work, and probably to check that Harry wouldn't make any difficulties. He stayed there, in the corner of the room, observing Harry from afar. The young man was trying not to let himself be intimidated. He did his best to show authority, but it wasn't his forte. He had to force himself to raise his voice and lacked assurance.

Harry looked at the list between his hands with lassitude. He had been here since the morning and was finally arriving at the last candidates. There were not many people left in the room, only three girls and one boy seated at the tables around the stage. He called the next name, "Miss Mabelle." Nobody moved. One of the girls coughed. Silence. Harry called louder, taking a glance around the tables.

Footsteps echoed on the big steel staircase: outrageously high heels, fishnet stockings, a short tight golden dress, and golden glitter on the bosom; carmine red lipstick, rosy cheekbones, false eyelashes, golden eye shadow, drawn eyebrows and more glitter. The make-up and long black hair, lifted by a golden headband, covered her androgynous but undeniably masculine features. Despite the outrageous getup, the diva was in no way ridiculous. She was glowing with charisma and planted her character with a combination of aplomb and craziness that suited her well.

The hand on the rail, a roll of the hips, "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr Potter."

Harry ogled at her with wide eyes and let his arm fall, his clipboard pointing downward. Once his shock had abated, he indicated towards the platform saying, "Show me what you got."

Miss Mabelle walked down the last steps swaying, her chin high and her smile seductive.

"Everything you want, cutie," she said, giving him a big wink.

The stage belonged to her. She had this wild and irreverent side that drew everyone's attention, and Harry couldn't help but smile watching her.

She tapped on the mic, took it and sing-sang, "I hope you're ready for Miss Mabelle!"

She outstretched her arm up to the sky and closed her eyes. Then she started singing_ Love Me or Leave Me_, a jazz standard . No playback. She was singing a cappella and her deep voice perfectly suited the song. Harry stared at her with amazement. Mabelle kept singing with such intensity in her voice, and her expressions were sublime. The spotlight made her face glow and her dress shine. She looked like a flamboyant star.

Harry was utterly charmed by her performance and when she stopped and made a bow, he applauded enthusiastically, his clipboard stuck between his elbows. Fluttering her long eyelashes, shelowered her eyes toward Harry, a light smile on her ruby lips. Harry's wide beam was enough to prove she had made a sensation.

Mabelle got down from the stage when she saw MacNair approach Harry. The young man's face fell immediately. He was always tense due to the man's imposing physique and the dark glint in his eyes whenever he looked at him: it was the same the first time they met, this calculating and vicious look. Harry could never bear his gaze for long.

"You did a good job," MacNair said, laying his hand on Harry's shoulder. The brunet tried very hard not to slap it away and gave him a nervous smile. "I'll let Lucius know," the man added.

MacNair smiled and this sight in itself was disturbing. The only interactions they'd ever had were violent or indifferent, there had been none of this ambiguous camaraderie, but Harry guessed he was one of them now. They all treated him differently nowadays. He could at least feel reassured as far as his place within the Organization was concerned.

"Thanks," he answered emotionlessly.

Harry looked at MacNair walking away, thoughtful.

He shook his head and turned around to join the drag queen in the dressing-room. She had pulled off her top, revealing her masculine torso, and began to remove her make up.

"Miss Mabelle, it was an amazing show."

"Sweetie, you can call me Mabelle," she said in her effeminate voice, her eyes frank.

Harry smiled at her, slightly intimated by her self-confidence.

"You were stunning," he complimented her, holding his clipboard tight in his hands.

Mabelle kept running the cotton over her eyebrows and her eyes.

"Are you hitting on me or are you trying to tell me I got the job?" she asked, gazing at his reflection in the mirror.

Half of her face was clean, her manly features becoming suddenly more pronounced. It gave her an air of mystery, like an exotic creature. Her look was both gentle and determined. Harry already liked her.

"When can you begin?"

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**June 22, 2004**

Harry started the rehearsals and numerous details were still to be put in place. There had been problems with the alcohol delivery, they had only received half of the quantity they ordered, and two waiters had ditched them. Lucius had been so impatient to open the club that everything was rushed. It was happening too fast.

Harry was facing the stage, tearing his hair out. The sound effects were terrible, the barely clothed dancers were starting to tire.

"Okay, let's take a break. We start again in twenty minutes."

Harry walked toward the bar to join Stan, the bartender who had become a dependable friend. The bulky man was placing the bottles they had already received onto the shelves. Harry put his elbows on the counter and knocked his forehead against it with a defeated air, bumping his head several times, whining. Stan put his hand comradely on his neck.

"Eh, don't let things get you down!"

Harry put his chin on the stainless steel top and sighed.

"I know but I'm starting to feel overwhelmed," he blurted out.

Stan leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "The sun will shine again."

He tilted his chin up before turning back to the shelves.

Harry frowned and turned around. Draco was standing next to the stage wearing a smart dark blue suit. Harry gracelessly sat up, mouth hanging open. Draco's face was radiant. Harry had rarely seen him so serene. Like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Was it his father's influence? Could he have been wrong about Lucius?

Draco moved toward him, taking a look around.

"I see it's coming along fine. How are you bearing up?"

"Fine, fine," Harry answered, trying to appear and sound energetic.

Stan gave him an amused look as he passed by him. Harry narrowed his eyes at him but quickly turned his attention back to Draco and cleared his throat.

"It's a lot of work and there's a long way to go."

"I'm sure you'll manage fine," Draco told him in a comforting tone.

Harry shrugged and started fidgeting, at loss for what to say. Their last tête-à-tête had been catastrophic, and since then, they had barely exchanged a word. Draco sensed Harry's discomfort and gave him a warm look. Harry couldn't forget what Draco had done, but it was hard to resent him when he was looking at him like that. All he wanted was to renew the bond they shared before everything crashed. Lucius' arrival had turned things upside down, and maybe now they could make a fresh start. Zabini seemed convinced that Draco had real feelings for him and, while prudence and reason were screaming at him to stick with his undercover role, Harry knew he was falling for the blonde.

The silence stretched a little too long, but Mabelle came to the rescue.

Harry gasped when he felt an arm wrapping around his waist. He started, interrupted in his thoughts.

" My, my, nice catch. What a delicious eye-candy!" Mabelle exclaimed over him, her head resting on top of his.

Harry blushed and rolled his eyes.

"Mabelle!"

The diva held her hand out to Draco who lifted his brows, intrigued by the newcomer.

"At your service," she said, punctuating Harry's exclamation.

Draco kissed her hand like the gentleman he was.

"Nice to meet you. You must be the gem everyone's talking about around the corridors."

Always mannered, Mabelle whipped her head backwards, her high pony tail going all the way down to her tight black shorts.

"Well, well, my reputation precedes me I see. And you are?"

"Draco Malfoy. I own the club with Lucius. My father," he added, not without difficulty.

Mabelle looked at him, arching one eyebrow.

"Oh, I see," she smiled and eyed the little brunet with a calculating look. "You should take a look backstage. The costumes are pure magic. Harry should give you a tour of the dressing-rooms."

Harry stared at Mabelle insistently. Her attempt to get them close was so blatant, and Harry didn't approve. There was no need to force things. Or maybe there was? Mabelle literally pushed him toward the artists' entrance, Draco laughing behind them.

Harry found himself behind the door with Draco on his tow. He scratched his head and mumbled, "Sorry for Mabelle. She's a little…"

"Eccentric."

"Yes."

Harry felt suddenly very agitated. He couldn't stop touching his hair and rolling up his sleeves. Draco seemed to relish the obvious effect he had on him, a grin stuck on his lips.

"Huh… the dressing-rooms are right here," Harry said.

Before he could open the door, a dancer exited the room in nothing but her panties. They heard chattering inside and entered the half-empty room. Two dancers were seated on a big chest of drawers, wearing their stage costumes which were limited to a glitter g-string and a low cut top.

"Gaby and Vera." Harry smiled at them. The girls looked at Draco up and down, and their gazes were a little too persistent for Harry's taste. Then he heard Draco say, "Would you give us a moment, lovelies."

The two girls giggled and left the room, waddling.

Draco faced Harry with tender eyes. "Things haven't been easy lately…"

_What an understatement. _

"No, they haven't been," Harry answered.

Draco lowered his eyes. "I wasn't in my right mind, I let myself get overwhelmed. And I hurt you."

It was one of the first times Harry had seen him avert his eyes in shame.

"I was out of it, I'm aware of that…" A bitter laugh, "… and believe me, it's hard to admit." He took a few steps and ran his eyes over a colourful bright wig hanging above one of the mirrors. "And my father's dreaded arrival... Well I am beginning to think it might all be providence. Business has never been better, he's been very helpful, and we are speaking again. I am not saying it's all roses, or that Lucius has become a different man, but... who knows?"

Harry looked at him intently and said, "Be careful Draco. I mean, all this, it's too good to be true."

"Don't worry. I never judge by appearances," Draco answered with a little glow in his eyes.

They shared a look for what seemed like an eternity, Harry meditating on his last words. As for Draco, who knew what went on in his mind.

The blonde finally shifted and moved to the clothes rack at the end of the room. Shiny and sexy costumes, vaporous shawls. Draco leaned over and pushed the hangers to take a better look at the clothes. Harry was watching him silently, captivated by the way he languorously touched the costume, his gestures like sweet caresses. To be jealous of a piece of fabric, how more pathetic could he be? Draco took a velvet strap between his fingers and ran them along the soft material.

"It lacks testosterone," he noted.

"What?" Harry broke from his daze and came closer. "Oh, the male dancers? They're coming tomorrow to rehearse the 'Men only night'. They really nailed the auditions."

Draco looked at the shelves where he found some frilly, tacky accessories and cruder ones in leather with chains. He grabbed a black whip and touched the hard looking lashes but their appearance was deceptive. They were soft on his hand. Harry was again lost at the sight, Draco's face, his lips, the blond strands on his neck. He didn't realize Draco was watching him too. It was only when the blonde playfully tapped his hand with the whip that he noticed his intense stare.

"Did you see something you like?" Draco asked him in a suave tone.

"Hm?" Harry almost moaned, blushing.

"The dancers," he clarified, eyes mischievous.

Harry roused, outraged. "The dancers? Never. Our relationships are strictly professional."

"Wouldn't be the first time an employee sleeps with his boss," retorted Draco with a leer, provoking Harry shamelessly.

Harry grew bright red, sensing this remark referred to him. It was true, he was under Draco's orders. What was he thinking? None of that mattered any more. It was all over now, so, surely, no boundary would be crossed.

The blonde took a step closer, his grey eyes sweeping over Harry, then he gave him a kiss on the cheek. Only a brush at first, then his lips pressed slowly, sensually on his skin.

"I'd better leave you now. I just wanted to make sure my interests were in good hands."

All these innuendos were troubling Harry who ended up at loss for words. He contented himself with looking at Draco through cloudy eyes.

"Be good," Draco added before leaving.

Harry stayed still, the kiss burning on his cheek, so innocent, so unsettling. He stood there, alone in the dressing room.

Not for long. Mabelle took delight in surprising him just after Draco's departure.

"You're a clever one. You've already got your mitts on the boss."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Mabelle, it's not what you think… Anyway, there's nothing between us anymore."

Mabelle looked at him from her six feet two inches stature, heels included.

"Hm, sweetie, who are you trying to convince? You are blind. He was devouring you with his eyes!"

Harry frowned and averted his eyes to look at a long feather boa laying on one of the chairs, catching it in his hands to occupy himself.

"You talk nonsense," he muttered.

Mabelle sat on the dressing table, crossed her long legs, and said in a sassy voice, "If there's one thing I know about, it's men. And that one was aching to turn you over the bar and take you doggie style."

Harry gaped and shouted in a strangled laugh, "Mabelle!"

She twirled one of her locks round her fingers, and said in a playful tone, "I'm only pointing out the obvious, honey."

Harry kept on fiddling with the feathers, staring at the floor. He looked like a child, an oblivious, very infuriating child, and it seemed this was exactly what Mabelle had on her mind. She shook her head, hopped off the table and slapped the brunet's bum. The latter swiftly turned around, protecting his behind with his hands, and threw her a dark look. Mabelle just let out a loud laugh and gazed at him with amused eyes. She obviously enjoyed teasing him. Still frowning, Harry rubbed his bottom and cleared his throat.

"Well, time to get back to work," he said, trying to sound authoritative, but failing miserably.

Mabelle leaned over him with a tender smile and slurred in is ear, "At your command, boss."

And with a wink, she headed to the door and left him alone in the room.

In the mirror, under the little spotlights, Harry's pretty face, dreamy eyes and a smile burgeoning on his lips.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

At the end of the evening, Harry came home to the River Building exhausted. He waved at the security guy and climbed into the elevator.

Once he arrived at the second floor, heading to his office to deposit a few documents, he heard laughter coming out of the meeting room. He came closer to the door and recognized Draco's voice.

"… really good. It's been ages!"

Then, an unknown voice, "Yes, I'm back and you already stormed the city. I've heard wild stories about you!"

"Let me reassure you, most of them are… true." Draco laughed joyfully and Harry felt his heart tighten. The way they were talking to each other didn't sound just friendly; there was something behind their voices, an intimacy that disturbed Harry.

He finally walked inside, revealing his presence.

Draco was sitting on the long oval table. A tall and fine-looking man stood in front of him with a huge grin on his face. His appearance seemed familiar but Harry had a hard time placing him in his memories. The two men were not alone in the room. Lucius was there too, seated on his wheelchair behind the boys. There was another man next to them that Harry had never seen before. He had very short hair and a tattoo on his neck. Nobody had noticed Harry standing there, ill at ease. Nobody except Lucius, who was silently looking at him as if expecting something. Then Harry realized he hadn't spoken since his entrance.

" New recruits?" he muttered.

Draco looked at Harry then, his cheekbones still prominent from smiling so much. He first introduced the tall man he seemed so close to, "Graham Montague. Remember him?" He turned to the other new guy. "And Adrian Pucey."

Harry answered with a thin voice, "Of course."

More Slytherins. How in the hell had they managed to keep contact?It was as though they never left each other. In all the chaos, how could they possibly have stayed in touch? Harry knew through experience how difficult such endeavors could be. It was simply impossible. And yet, here they were, as though Lucius was trying to form an army.

"Fresh blood," stated Lucius cheerfully. "We persuaded these fine young men to join us, and I'm pleased to see they're already fitting in so nicely."

Lucius was eying the boys with a satisfied look. And Harry could see what it was all about. Even though Lucius had welcomed him with open arms, it was obvious he didn't approve of the relationship he had shared with Draco. A former Gryffindor, a former enemy. And Lucius wasn't born yesterday. Harry's presence, his past and the rapidity with which he had been integrated into the Organization certainly far from reassured the patriarch. Montague was a safer option than Harry. He was a Slytherin, a criminal if his presence here was anything to go by, and he and Draco obviously shared a special bond. There was no competition here.

Montague turned toward Harry and offered him his hand and a sympathetic smile. Facing him fully, Harry noticed the man's right eye was a bit lazy : the eyelid was slightly falling and this detail gave him a dangerous look. Harry looked down at his raised hand, hesitating first, then decided to shake it politely. He dropped it fast though. It was visceral, Harry didn't like him, and it certainly wasn't his good manners that would endear Montague to him. Pucey, on the other hand, greeted him with a tilt of his head before averting his eyes, and that suited Harry fine. Honest and direct. Then, Montague uttered one of those particular laughs, a bit affected, bordering on fake.

"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, working hand in hand. If someone had told me that a few years ago, I think I would have choked with laughter."

_If only… _

"And yet," Harry said with a strange grimace.

He had no idea how to interact with Montague. Lucius had recruited him, and that was already a black mark against him, but it looked like Draco trusted him, they were so close. Maybe too close… But let's wait.

"Fuck, I have so many things to tell you," said Montague, turning his attention to Draco once more, putting his hand on his shoulder.

Harry watched the hand linger on Draco. He hated this complicity between the two men, and that Montague who didn't stop smiling at Draco, touching him… Until then, he'd had the impression he was the only one who could reach Draco, who could make him smile, and here, coming out from nowhere, that man was stealing all his attention. Harry had he feeling he had lost something important, and he was afraid that after everything that had happened between them, it would be the final straw that would destroy the little bit of hope that remained.

Harry would have given everything he had to be in Montague's place. Draco was looking at his former school friend with such a joyous gaze. They didn't take their eyes off each other. Worse, Draco had barely looked at Harry since he stepped in, as though his presence didn't affect him one bit. Had he already replaced him? Could he forget him so soon? Yet, they had shared a moment only a few hours earlier. But maybe it was just a game… Harry's face slowly crumbled as he put his thoughts together and the terrible conclusion imposed itself to him: he was going to lose Draco. And to think two weeks before, they were in each other's arms.

Draco suddenly rose and announced, "Alright, it's late, we'd better go now." He turned to the two newcomers. " You coming? I'll present you to the Capellis."

They passed in front of Harry as if he weren't there. Harry hesitated, then moved toward Draco. He was about to take him aside when Lucius called him out, "Harry, the boys have a late meeting. Nothing of interest to you, but I'd like to discuss something with you, if you will."

Harry saw the elevator's doors close behind Draco and sighed with an air of capitulation, alone with Lucius in the corridor.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Lucius' office was intimidating. The room was almost bare, and the strange absence of the furniture made him uncomfortable. Everything was designed for Lucius of course. The lack of fittings allowed him to move easily. Just a desk, two comfortable but narrow chairs, a couch against the opposite wall and low storage units and shelves.

Harry sat in a chair and Lucius took his place behind the desk. The blonde looked at him with piercing eyes.

"Harry, do you like it at the club? I've heard good things about your work there."

Harry took on a most professional tone, "Yes, thank you again for your trust."

Lucius smiled at him, his stare unreadable. Harry felt like he was sifting through his thoughts. With his superior air, Lucius looked like he knew everyone one of his secrets. Harry put all his shields in place, keeping a stone face.

"You know I didn't lie," Lucius said." Draco is important to me, he is the future. I want to put him back in the race."

Harry nodded.

"It's all credit to you."

Lucius smiled, welcoming the remark, then got straight to the point, "You had an affair with my son. I want to make sure it is well over."

In a split second, the mask had fallen. Harry gritted his teeth and said the most calmly he could, "You'll have to ask Draco."

Lucius made a lazy gesture with his hand, pointing out the obvious, "Well, I'm asking you."

"I don't know what to answer." Harry added, his voice increasingly tense, "And even if I did, it is none of your business."

Lucius smiled again. "Everything that concerns Draco is my business."

"I doubt he agrees with you."

" Draco doesn't know what's good for him."

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes shining with anger. How dare he judge him and make decisions for Draco.

"That's your opinion," he said.

"Young Montague showed interest in my son, and I intend to encourage this relationship. He's a trustworthy man, someone who will know how to help and advise him."

Harry's eyes darkened but he showed no weakness and snorted. "Sounds like you're talking about a colleague and not a lover."

"I'm talking about a partner, in all the senses of the word. In matters of the heart, Draco loses all common sense. He had his share of love betrayals. He needs someone who'll pull him up, not an easy lay."

"Like me," added Harry, enouncing what was left unsaid.

Lucius made himself condescending, "Harry, I know your story, and I think we can both agree you will bring no good to him."

Harry swallowed back the insults burning on his tongue.

"What happened to your speech about second chances and redemption," he spat.

There was a quick spark in Lucius' eyes. It looked like he didn't see the repartee coming. For that matter, he found nothing to retort and kept on, "I'm keeping you here because Draco believes he needs you. I know my son. He is fooling himself thinking you are here to save him from I don't know what. A passing whim… the influence of that crazy girl, Pansy."

Harry felt his blood boiling inside his veins, all his muscles contracted with tension.

"But there's nothing to save. I'm proud of my son. You come here, worming your way into his life, pestering him with your ideas about morals and justice..." He tightened his fist on his armrest. "We have no care for those preconceived notions!"

Lucius had lost his composure for a few seconds. He looked down at his hand and unclenched his fist before getting his self control back. When he lifted his eyes, they were calm and piercing again.

"I tolerate you for Draco's sake, and I know you will do nothing foolish to sabotage the club. But don't get too attached. You will never be part of our family."

At least, Harry knew where he stood now.

"If you're done, may I go." he asked, his jaw clenched.

Lucius sharply nodded.

Harry shut the door calmly, but once inside the elevator, he gave a hard kick to the wall to expel his anger. He paced in the cabin, seething and huffing.

Lucius, all smooth and docile in front of his son, that snake intended to destroy what was left of his relationship with Draco!

But Harry would fight back.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

It was already three o'clock in the morning and they had yet to return. Harry had seen Pucey around the floor, but no news regarding Draco and Montague.

He couldn't sleep, couldn't even close his eyes. It was ridiculous. Why was he acting like a jealous boyfriend? He had no rights over Draco.

Then, he heard drawls and laughter outside his door.

They were back.

Harry quickly got up and stuck his ear against the door. He closed his eyes to focus better on their voices, but there was no more sound. Then suddenly, the noise resumed, quiet voices he had a hard time identifying, until he heard broken words and muffled laughter: they were kissing.

Harry shot out a "Shit!" before realizing he had spoken out loud. He covered his mouth with his hand and slowly put his ear back against the door, but no, they were continuing their little session, to Harry's greatest disgust. There was some squeaking now. Montague, no doubt. He sounded like a fucking mouse. The next room's door banged against the frame, and he heard a moan.

_They wouldn't dare…_

His fists clenched and he was breathing hard. Harry fortified himself to open the door and interrupt them. Unless…

_Slam!_

The two men turned their heads at once.

"Oh sorry! I thought I heard someone struggling," Harry said with his most innocent look.

Harry had slammed the door open and was looking at them with wide eyes. Caught in the act.

Montague was spread over Draco, pushing him against the door, his right eye drooping even more, giving him an idiotic look. He was smashed, and Draco was in no better state. It was pitiful, and Harry felt superior seeing Draco lose his usual confidence and stare at him with a lost and confused look. A drunken kiss, nothing more.

Draco pushed Montague away and Harry did a victory dance inside.

"Harry…" he called out, with an unnaturally high-pitched voice.

Harry feigned embarrassment, "Really, I'm sorry, I thought someone was attacking you. I didn't mean to disturb you two."

He was overdoing it, but they wouldn't notice a thing in their condition.

Well, Harry didn't miss Montague's black look. Apparently, he was more alert than Draco. Harry couldn't care less; quite the opposite, really. At least, his intentions were clear.

Harry got back to his room, slamming the door closed. He then smacked his head against the door. The level he has lowered himself to! At least he was convinced his interruption had been successful.

A minute later, he heard Draco's door close and footsteps disappear down the corridor.

Unfortunately, the next morning, Draco was out again, with Montague. And the day after.

Lucius boasted of having found his dream team. Draco and Montague were apparently very efficient together: sealing deals, doubling sales. They had found interesting opportunities, one was a new drug that already circulated in the big clubs of the city. The Ex-Stacy would probably be the next on the list. As for the arms trade, they were about to conclude a profitable transaction with a dissident arm groups in North Ireland.

Harry was witnessing this from the sidelines. Lucius had made sure he would stay at the club most of the time, away from the office, and away from Draco.

Sometimes, Harry would meet the dream duo in the corridors, but Draco barely glanced at him and he felt ever more rejected. Why wouldn't Draco come to him? Their rendezvous at the club had left him with the impression Draco was still into him, but now Montague had come between them before Harry could reciprocate, and he had ruined it.

Nevertheless, Harry wouldn't let the next occasion slip by.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**June 25, 2004**

Harry was coming out of his office that morning, when he caught sight of Draco reading his newspaper in the elevator, at the other end of the corridor. Harry reacted quickly. He ran, traversing all the corridor in merely five seconds, and threw his arm in the cabin before the doors closed. Safety sensor activated, the doors opened wide again, and Harry entered, out of breath. Draco cast a surprised glance in his direction before resuming his reading. Harry tried to even his breath. He didn't want to mess this up, there was so much he wanted to say. The droning elevator music inside made him all the more nervous.

He was facing the still open doors, his back to Draco.

"So, Montague and you?" he asked with bitterness.

"What?" said the blonde, dumbstruck.

"Lucius told me you performed wonders together."

His acidic tone didn't escape Draco.

"What are you trying to say?" he asked.

The elevator's doors closed.

"Oh nothing," Harry said falsely nonchalant now.

_Come on…_

Why did he always chicken out at the last minute. Couldn't he just say the damn thing?

Draco, he didn't beat around the bush and said, clearly annoyed, "Harry, are you having a jealous crisis?"

Harry sniggered at that to cover his embarrassment.

"So what?" continued Draco. "I don't get you."

Harry wanted to settle things once and for all. He couldn't stand these unspoken words, this frustration.

The sound of the elevator going down, the insipid music, the imminent opening of the doors.

_Tiiing! Tiiing! Tiiing!_

The alarm button.

Harry had pressed it before throwing himself at Draco, stealing his breath. The blonde, taken aback, was rigid, his hands still in his pockets.

He warmed up soon enough, Harry writhing madly against him, impatient and excited, freeing all the tension accumulated those last days. He wanted to feel Draco all around him, against him. The alarm was ringing out, insistent, mirroring the fever of the two men and increasing the urgency of their embrace. Their lips were crashing, their hands frenetically feeling each other's bodies. It was wild, their faces pressed against each other, their brows furrowed with intensity. Harry savagely removed the blonde's tie and began to unbutton his shirt to slide his hand beneath. He caressed his skin, then he was already fumbling with his belt. It felt as if they were running out of time, a question of death and life. They had to do it now.

No prelude. Harry knew he couldn't take it much longer.

Draco joined the same rhythm as Harry, nervous and eager for more. He unzipped Harry's trousers and pulled them down. They were facing each other, kissing like two starved men, eyes foggy. Draco flipped Harry around in one motion to pin him against the elevator wall, the cabin vibrating with the shock. Harry flattened his hands and rested his forehead on the cold metal, his breathing short, the delicious and unbearable anticipation. Harry heard the sound of Draco's fly behind him and whimpered. He could feel Draco's cock against his ass, hot and moist, and then it was inside him, so hard. The sweet burn. Harry lifted his head, pressing his lips against the wall, the condensation of his breath leaving a trace on the metal before disappearing. Draco put his head against Harry's, huffing with ecstasy.

"I missed you…," he said in a whisper.

Harry smiled against the wall, but only answered with an impatient "Move!". Draco didn't have to be asked twice. He moved fast and strong. His body encaged Harry who stayed there, pinned against the wall, Draco's thrusts pushing his belly against the elevator's hand rail again and again, the movement more and more powerful. Draco caught Harry's cock in his hand from behind and masturbated him at the same rhythm as his thrusts.

Harry moaned. "Yes… hm… again"

The act was passionate and intense, they were so hungry for each other. Draco bit Harry's neck and the brunet closed his eyes, mouth open. He put his hands behind him to grab the blonde's ass, silently asking him to deepen his movements. Draco, encouraged, pounded him all the more intensely. He then gripped Harry's disheveled hair with one hand, the other stroking his soft chest. Harry moaned with pleasure, his neck bared, abandoning himself to the sensations.

"You like that?"Draco asked in a perverse voice.

" Ahh… yesss… ahhh... Draco."

Harry kept mumbling incoherent words. Draco groaned, heaving more and more rapidly. He ended with a sharp thrust and emptied himself inside Harry. The brunet followed a few seconds later, under the steady movements of the blonde's hand.

Draco's head was hanging over Harry's, his breath gently blowing on the brunet's ear. His hands, heavy and numb, left the lithe body when he felt the elevator moving once again.

"Shit!"

Draco quickly fastened his trousers back up and closed his belt. He shook Harry who was standing languid against the wall, eyes half-closed. The brunet didn't have the energy nor the desire to move. Draco hurried him "Harry!" and finally did the work himself. He pulled the brunet's trousers up in one move, Harry grimacing with pain, his bottom still sensitive.

_Ting_

The doors opened, revealing the security guy. Draco opened his arms wide against the opening to hide Harry who was trying to groom himself behind him. The blonde's tie was undone and his shirt was buttoned wrong. He sighed and said, "Ooof, it's boiling hot!" He lowered his tie to emphasize his words, his forehead still covered with sweat. "It was hell inside, thanks for helping us out."

He patted the man's shoulder and stepped out in the most casual way. Harry left in turn, more shyly, flashing a little smile to the perplexed man.

He followed Draco's steps and exited the building. The blonde was in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at him with mischievous eyes, a grin on his face. Harry moved towards him without hesitation and jumped on his arms to kiss him with delectation. Draco laughed into his mouth and took him in his arms. They looked at each other, not entirely conscious of what was going on.

Everything had happened so fast, literally the time of an elevator ride. But that had no importance, Harry was still entranced by their lovemaking and just wanted to enjoy the gorgeous blonde without second thoughts.

He massaged Draco's neck, leaning on him, and asked with a beautiful smile, "Where were you going? I want to stay with you."

Draco's smile could have competed with his.

"I was going to join Pansy for a coffee."

Harry's eyes widened."Oh, I promised her I'd get her magazine."

He looked at the newspaper shop on the corner and asked, "Will you wait for me a second?"

"Ok, I'll take the opportunity to make a phone call."

"I'll be quick," Harry said, walking backwards, unable to detach his eyes from Draco.

He entered the shop, all giddy.

He had thrown himself at Draco. He had listened to his impulses and now, they were going to have a coffee with Pansy, the most natural way.

Harry searched the stands, looking for the magazine Paranormal. It wasn't an easy task; his head was in the clouds. Somebody bumped into him and he was about to apologize when he heard, "McCarthy wants news."

Harry took a moment before understanding what was happening, and the reality crashed down on him.

It had to happen now.

He blinked for a few moments and answered in a monotone, "It's too soon."

He needed to think. He needed to get his thoughts in order.

But the other guy wouldn't leave him be. The man gave him a hard look. He was dressed elegantly but his face was rough. Harry didn't know him, never seen him before. McCarthy always sent a new guy, maybe he was trying to unsettle him.

"We know there've been changes. Don't play with us. You know what McCarthy is capable of."

Harry had only a few seconds to make his decision.

Yes, he could divulge the news. Lucius was dangerous. Draco wouldn't suffer from it. On the contrary, McCarthy would return to his primary target. It was perfect.

He simply said, "Lucius is back."

"What?" the other reacted, stunned.

"He came back a week ago."

The man seized Harry's hand, crushing it violently.

"And I have to make you spit it out? Do you realize the importance of that info!"

He let go of Harry bruquely. Harry winced and rubbed his hand with the other to make the pain go away.

"We've seen Draco Malfoy a lot around the neighborhood. He has business in the River Building?"

Harry confirmed, "It's our new HQ."

"What else?"

Harry sighed. He enumerated each of their new acquisitions, "The Biloxie restaurant on Lombard Street, the X-Stacy club and the Fox coffee in Soho. That's all, I know nothing about their deals. I'm working at the club now. I don't know anything else."

"Alright, alright. At least it's something. Now, you can trust Tony, the manager here. As soon as you find out about something new, you tell him, and we'll give you our orders. We can't take the risk to meet again now that the gang's invested in the area. That son of a bitch of Lucius Malfoy is a vicious guy. We can't take any chances with him. Ok?"

He pushed Harry in the back.

"And don't delay next time."

Harry nodded silently.

He kept his eyes fixed on the magazines in front of him and when he turned around, the man had already gone. He looked at the fellow on the cash desk with a fresh eye. "Tony" returned the stare, intent.

Ok, that's how it was going to be now. His world was back in shambles.

Harry got out the store, thoroughly shaken.

Draco was waiting for him, eyes shining, and the sight of him was bitter sweet. He took Harry by the arm and suddenly frowned.

"What about Pansy?"

Harry realized that with the unexpected encounter, he had completely forgotten about Pansy's magazine.

"They were out of stock," he said.

He shrugged, a sad look on his face. Draco took him by the collar and kissed him tenderly.

"It's no big deal, we'll find it somewhere else."

Harry offered him a half-smile. Draco put a gentle hand on his back and they resumed their walk side by side. Harry took a brief look over his shoulder, scanning the passers-by. Then, they walked away and disappeared in the crowd.


	17. Two Households Both Alike in Dignity

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon. And many thanks to MsLefay for her precious corrections.

A/N: Thank you HerebTheLostRaven, I finally followed your advice...

* * *

**CHAPTER 16 : TWO HOUSEHOLDS BOTH ALIKE IN DIGNITY**

**June 10, 2004**

Draco was seated on the couch in his office, the report on some client in hand, but his eyes weren't on the files. They were caught up by the vision of Harry's soft lips, his thumb traveling along the plump mouth before he resumed their kiss. Both men gently caressed each other, the hair, the neck, the back. They didn't intend to go further. They were content with this lazy languor. Draco tried to put more effort in his work and turned his attention back to his paperwork. He turned one of the pages, and Harry took it to put it aside. Draco smiled at him and read the next page. Harry gently ran his hand beneath Draco's shirt to caress the skin just below the belt. He put his chin over the blonde's shoulder, looking uninterestedly at the papers. Again, Draco turned the page and Harry put it on top of the previous page to make a pile. This lasted for two more pages, and then Harry shifted to lean against Draco. The latter stopped his reading, waiting for the brunet's next move. Then, a tongue was on his ear, mapping its contours and then nipping its lobe. A faint chuckle and Harry was moving again, this time searching his soft spot between the nape and he let his files drop, the papers scattering all over the floor. He turned and took Harry by the arms with a fierce look.

"You're a little devil, you know that."

Harry gave him a devious smile to illustrate his words. Draco stole his lips, and looked at his watch between two kisses.

"Hm… I should hurry, I've another meeting with the Capellis…"

Harry rubbed his cheek against his and whispered,"I want to keep you for me." His words were broken by little smacks. "Tell them… you want… to stay… with your man…"

Draco laughed against his lips.

"Hm, yes, it'd probably work."

Draco stopped his ministrations and looked at him. Harry expected him to do something, but the blonde kept staring at him. The smile fell and Harry frowned.

"What?" he asked worriedly.

Draco's grip loosened and his hands slid to make soothing motions over Harry's arms. Draco's eyes were thoughtful and serious. Harry felt dread creeping over him.

"Lucius talked to you," he said, uneasy.

His body tensed, fearing the answer, but then Draco smiled.

"What? What's he got to do with us?"

Harry had never mentioned his unpleasant conversation with Lucius. That would have brought nothing but more troubles and tension.

"I just…" He bit his lip. "Nothing, it's stupid."

Draco drew him closer and said,"I was just contemplating you. Us." He gently discarded a strand of hair from the brunet's forehead. "You might not see it, but you're so brave, and kind." Harry's face looked so open under his, listening to his word with disbelief. "After what I put you through, I was sure you'd run away, but you stayed all this time. You didn't give up on me."

Harry blinked and swallowed, saddened by the fact that it was only a half-truth. The ulterior motives were so shameful and traitorous. He lifted his hand to touch Draco's cheek.

"I'm not as good as you think I am."

"Silly," Draco said before bending over to put a kiss on his forehead then on his nose and his lips.

He smoothed Harry's wild mane and peered at him, confessing in a low voice,"I was afraid we'd never betogether like that again. After everything I did…"

Harry cut him short with a kiss but as soon as he pulled his lips away, Draco kept on,"Forgive-me."

Harry stroked the blonde's neck and stared at him. There was such intensity in his eyes. It wasn't a game anymore, it felt real and true. Harry sealed Draco's lips again and told him in a murmur,"Shh… Let's not talk about that anymore. It's nice, the two of us together here, isn't it?"

Harry didn't want to think about Flint, McCarthy, Lucius and Draco's schemes. He needed to believe that a new chapter was starting. He had no desire to go back to his dark thoughts. He just wanted to enjoy life for once. The rest would catch up with him soon enough, no matter what.

Far from Draco and his gang's sleazy affairs, he could pretend their story was as normal as could be. Draco was his lovely, sexy boyfriend, a business man like so many others. Far from their traffic, he could forget about the dark aspects of the Organization. When Draco arrived from work to meet Harry, they practically never spoke of his dealings. Draco knew that it would damage their blissful harmony, the bubble they had created for themselves. Within their circle, Harry felt so protected from the violence out there, in the streets, the repression, the muggles' hatred.

Harry needed this. It might be denial, an escape mechanism, it didn't matter. He had been lying since the beginning anyway. Now, the frontier between Harry and his character had blurred. He was letting himself be seduced by the luxury and the security that this new environment offered him; and most of all by Draco.

The blonde toppled Harry over, the leather cushions dipping against their weight. Draco was almost entirely lying on Harry and pushed his chin with one hand to expose his neck and decorate it with love bites. Harry was giggling, eyes closed.

They had only been like this for two weeks, and they just couldn't do without each other.

Draco slid down Harry's neck, tickling the brunet with his tongue, making the brunet's head jerk backwards. That's when Harry noticed the lock was off the door.

"We should be more careful," he drawled.

Draco looked at the door in turn.

"Why? Afraid to get caught?" he asked, continuing his kisses.

Harry closed his eyes.

"I think it's too late for that… Hm… The security guys already got an eyeful… Everyone… Hm…. Everyone must know by now, but no need to flaunt ourselves."

Draco lifted his head, surprised.

"That 's what it was about? You're afraid of Lucius?" he said, mocking him.

Harry looked away, annoyed. He pushed Draco from him and sat up.

"I don't want him to come between us, that's all…" he said.

Draco didn't see the danger, but he did. When they met, they always hid somewhere, away from indiscreet eyes and surveillance cameras, taking advantage of the little time that their busy schedules allowed them to pounce on each other. Harry didn't want to give Lucius more reasons to hate him. Draco just thought Harry wanted to keep their garden secret.

"Hey! I won't let anything happen," Draco said, forcing Harry to meet his eyes, "Between Lucius and you, my choice is already made."

That was all Harry needed to hear.

"I know…" he said before burying his head in the crook of his lover's neck.

"Come on," Draco said, getting up reluctantly.

They opened the door, devouring each other with their eyes, hand in hand, when Harry caught the now familiar electrical noise. Too late. Lucius was right in front of them.

The man kept an imperturbable mask, but Harry wasn't fooled. He didn't have the time to drop Draco's hand, and to be honest, he didn't really want to. Lucius was silent in front of them, frozen on his chair. There was an awkward moment of silence. The confrontation wasn't so catastrophic after all. Actually, it might even be enjoyable.

Lucius betrayed no emotion, but Harry knew he was cursing him inside. Harry's smile only grew wider. His relationship with Draco had become one of the most joyful experiences he had ever had, and now, he was also thumbing his nose at that pompous bastard. To rub it in, Harry stroked Draco's hand with his thumb and leaned closer to him, eyes riveted on Lucius'.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" he asked.

Lucius shifted his eyes to their joined hands and responded in an equal tone,"Shouldn't you be at the venue making sure all is going well?The first month is capital and you're already slacking."

Harry kept on the game of politeness. "I was just on my way... but thank you for preoccupying yourself with it."

He turned toward Draco, who seemed little interested by the conversation, and gave him a long fiery kiss. Draco grinned at him, amused by his little display. Harry slurred, "See you tonight" before throwing a wry look at Lucius.

He was quite proud of his bravado. He knew he had opened hostilities, and that Lucius would try to interfere, but he was prepared now.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**June 25, 2004**

Like every morning, Harry left for the club. He passed the revolving doors of the River building and headed to the Tube at the end of the sidewalk. The society's car with its chauffeur was a privilege he despised. It made him feel like one of Lucius' pawns. It was with pleasure that he found his old habits back. Draco let him indulge in his "eccentricities", going as far as accompanying him on the Underground sometimes, albeit rarely, less than thrilled by the unpleasant smell, the noise and the indelicacies of the passengers. Harry was amused by it and tried to drag him down there as often as possible.

Harry listened to his mobile's voice mail and walked past the newspaper shop without a glance, too focused on his messages. He kept walking, but before he reached the Tube station's staircase, he felt his t-shirt being pulled as if it had caught in something. He stopped and lowered his eyes. A little boy was gripping the end of his shirt, watching him with praying eyes, head lifted. Confusion flickered in Harry's eyes. The boy kept tugging at his shirt and it was then that Harry noticed something in the boy's hand. Harry furrowed his brows.

"Is it for me?" he asked softly.

The kid shyly nodded and held out his hand. Harry kneeled to be at his eye's level, but as soon as he took the paper, the boy ran away. Harry turned to see him disappear inside the newspapers shop. Comprehension dawned on him and a cold chill ran through his body. He slowly rose and discreetly unfolded the note in the hollow of his hand:

_"Where are you at? Need new information urgently._

Give news as soon as you get this message."

Harry closed his hand and ran his tongue on his lips, looking fixatedly in front of him. McCarthy wasn't a patient man, but what could he do? He had no recent information that could be helpful. He had to admit that beyond his haven at the club, he was deliberately avoiding any business discussion. He closed his eyes and ears. Why? Simply because he could no longer tolerate being manipulated.

According to McCarthy, Remus was safe now. That was good. But then, there had been no more details, not a word from Remus. A deal was a deal and McCarthy had yet to fulfil his part. Harry wanted to throw it all in and leave the missive unanswered. But how would McCarthy react to his defection ?

He knew what he had to do.

The next day, he entered the shop and left his answer:

_"I want to contact Remus : a word from him, a call, something. For all I know, he could already be dead._

You gave me nothing. As long as I don't hear from him, you won't get anything either."

The note would allow him some time to breathe and McCarthy something to think about.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**July 31, 2004**

The X-Stacy's opening night had been a success and word of mouth had worked well. Harry was satisfied. Here they were, one month later, and the club was still packed every night. Harry had spotted several clients he had crossed with at the River building. Everyone seemed to know each other. One big family. And to Harry's great displeasure, he had met other familiar heads: little dealers he had known in his past and junkies who would inevitable become regular clients. Harry had called several of them himself under Lucius' pressure. Harry had had to force himself to prove his loyalty to the man, but he was less and less prone to obey to his whims. Lucius and he were now openly at war.

Harry greeted his old acquaintances without enthusiasm. The guys were talking about good old times, but Harry was nothing like them anymore and he was glad about it. The newest drug circulated the club, bright red pills: "blood beans." Harry had to promote this filth, he had no choice. The whole gang was there and he was the host of the ceremony, but he put little effort in it. He preferred to focus on the show rather than to sell their poison or bow and scrape. He had at least the satisfaction of seeing Lucius swallow his pride to sing his praises in front of his partners in crime. Two girls were dancing onstage but the show had yet to begin. It was still early.

In the other room, people were already crowding in the dance floor, grinding against each other. A few dancers were glancing at them through the glass wall that separated the two rooms. It was funny to see them swaying their hips like crazy whereas, on the other side, the mood was more cozy and sensual.

Harry opened the thick plastic curtain that gave way to the airlock leading to the other room. It looked like these cold rooms in the butcher's shops, a detail that gave a quirky touch to the place. The airlock walls were covered with twinkling lights, the sound of the music completely muffed inside, slight beats and vibrations reaching the little space. He crossed a second plastic curtain and found himself engulfed by the roaring music and the wild bodies all around. A quick switch from the cabaret to the underground club. He made his path to the DJ. Everything was going great.

Time for the show.

A small jazz band had settled next to the stage. On the platform, a simple mic lit up by a spotlight. The audience quieted down. The curtain parted, and a perfectly manicured hand with long pink nails reached over and took the mic off the stand. A flick on the mic, and Mabelle opened the dance, as a real showgirl.

She spoke to the audience with grand, gracious gestures, and began in a playful tone, "My darlings, welcome to the X-Stacy. Miss Mabelle at your service. We will give you a show like you've never seen before. We have tasty specimens tonight, fabulous dancers, enticing thighs for all tastes." She stopped then and came closer to the platform's edge. "But I see we have some beautiful males among us." She smiled at a well built man in one of the tables at the front. The man blushed, embarrassed, then Mabelle gave a look around. "Let me warn you girls, hold onto your husbands, because I'm a true man-eater .Rrrrr…"

A few laughs in the crowd, then she winked at Harry in the audience. The brunet was shaking his head, a little smile on his face.

"You'd better hang on if you want to keep up with me. But don't worry, you won't be disappointed."

The brass rang out as she shook her hips left and right and snapped her fingers.

She presented the girls and the curtain opened on Candy, seated on a chair with a pink laced corset and black stretch thigh boots, a felt hat over her head and a boa hanging on the back of the chair. The jazzy music went into full swing, sassy and voluptuous. Candy crossed and uncrossed her legs with large movements, then played with the chair. She lifted her head up and threw her hat at the public, to the accompaniment of appreciative whistles from the clients. She got up, took the feather boa and made it turn and turn, then performed a sensual shimmy.

Harry wasn't watching the show. He knew it by heart and was much more interested in the public's reaction, and there was no doubt they were seduced .Harry was not a big fan of striptease but the girls were talented. They didn't just undress, wiggling and posing. They put on a show, closer to burlesque than the common strippers. The girls had cheek and character, Harry had made sure of it. Lucius might have set the rules, but Harry had got round them the best he could. He'd had to make concessions, Lucius had imposed a few people around, but overall, Harry was satisfied. He was waiting for Mabelle's performance excitedly. It was always his favourite moment. She was beginning to have her adepts, fans that came only for the pleasure to hear her sing.

And it was Harry's birthday. He suspected the diva had prepared something for the occasion.

Harry went around the room to make sure everything was going well. The waitresses slalomed between the tables in tight shorts and lap dances were already taking place around the sofas. The girls were undressing, revealing their generous bosoms to the clients. One of Lucius' conditions he couldn't escape from. It was business. They had to make money, and the girls baited the clients. There were backrooms under the staircases for more private sessions, but Harry had warned the girls he wasn't in favour of it. He knew how ugly these things could turn and there was no way he would let sordid trades happen here. Security kept an eye on it. But then, it was up to the girls to take their own responsibility. Some of Lucius' recruits seemed ambitious and far from virtuous.

Speaking of the devil, he caught sight of Lucius at a near-by table, in discussion with a group of men wearing elegant suits. It didn't look like they were talking about the show, speaking heatedly as they were. Harry had no desire to be involved in his trafficand looked up to Draco's table, in the VIP room upstairs. Nott, Zabini, MacNair and the Lestranges were drinking and chatting around. Montague was seated next to Draco as usual, and he was speaking with one of the girls. Harry observed them more closely and recognized the girl's generous curves and her blond mane: Samantha. One of Lucius' girls.

Montague took out a wad of notes and Draco seemed to half-protest. The others were laughing and Harry's eyes narrowed when he saw the girl climb on Draco's lap and start removing her bra. Draco didn't touch her, but that didn't mean a thing: those were the rules. In any case, Samantha was visibly enjoying herself. She was wiggling around in obscene moves. From where he was standing, her dance was anything but erotic. She was overdoing it, sweeping her hair around like a fury, touching her body as if she were in heat. Harry felt like grabbing her hair and throwing her off the balcony.

He was supposed to stay professional and keep an eye on the room but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the balcony. His resolution weakened, and he quickly walked upstairs. When he arrived in front of Draco, the latter didn't pull away and settled for staring at him with pert eyes. Harry was in no mood for games and shouted to be heard over the loud music: " Sam !". The girl turned around, whipping her hair on one side as though she was making a shampoo commercial. Harry could have strangled her.

He threw her a harsh look and said in a professional tone, "The table 3 asked for you several times, you should go over there now."

"Can't you see I'm busy here?" she said, defying him with her eyes.

_The insolence !_

Montague sniggered while Zabini opened his mouth, eager for a cat fight. The others just smiled, appreciating the little scene.

Harry retorted in a curt tone :

"Samantha, get lost."

The girl made an outraged look but swung her leg over Draco's knee to get up. She left with a theatrical sigh.

Draco looked not the least at fault. He was amused and feigned disappointment.

"You just lost me a free lap dance," he said. "You'd better have a consolation prize."

Harry took up the challenge egged on the blonde's mischievous stare. Harry removed his jacket and moved closer to him. Without care for their comrades, he took the place of the girl, positioning his thighs around Draco who let out a satisfied groan.

"Better?" Harry asked, tilting his head aside, ingenuous.

"I'll make do with it," Draco teased him.

Harry opened his mouth, looking offended, but he soon resumed the game. He rolled his hips, his bottom planted against Draco's crotch, provoking a loud gasp from the blonde. The slow, sensual message kept Draco speechless and Harry threw a look aside, enchanted to see Montague's disgusted air, and a bit puzzled by MacNair's concupiscent look. Harry undulated under the music's flow and Draco's knowing glance, the blonde already hard for him. He planted his eyes on Harry's and caught his hips to encourage him, but Harry slapped his hand away.

"You can look but you can't touch."

Draco looked at him almost in awe. "Oooh, tough in business, I like that."

Harry gave him a lopsided grin and leaned against him to kiss him. Both were blind to what surrounded them, the kiss quickly becoming indecent, Draco gripping Harry's ass without receiving any protest this time. They took a breath and Harry, eyes closed, whispered in his lover's ear, "I've got to go back…"

Draco groaned with frustration, gently nipping at his neck, but let him go anyway.

"We'll play later tonight," Harry coyly added before leaving.

While Harry was making his way through the tables, the music suddenly stopped. He turned his head toward the band, eyes inquiring. The men didn't react but Harry's gaze was immediately drawn to the stage where Mabelle stood, a spotlight directed at her, stunning with her blond bob and her sparkling white dress. She moved toward the mic and sensually sang:

"Happy birthday… to you… Happy birthday… to you."

The Marilyn Monroe's impersonation brought a smile to Harry's lips, and he suddenly found himself wrapped by the light of the following spot. The spectators all turned their heads to look at him, some of then joining Mabelle and bursting into the well known song. A light blush rose to Harry's cheek. It was so unexpected.

"Happy birthday… Mister Harry Potter." She made a nice Marilyn's pout, her lips half-opened between each word. "Happy Birthday… to you."

Mabelle winked at him from the stage and Harry blew her a kiss back, running a hand through his hair. He brushed it all off with a hand but Mabelle gestured for him to join her on stage. In front of her pressing insistence, he gave in and joined her. Mabelle took him in his arms and said:

"Enjoy your night sweetie."

She kissed him on the cheek, leaving a big red impression on his skin. Blinded by the light, Harry couldn't see anything but he made a timid bow. When he hurriedly left the stage, he found Draco before him and gave him a long kiss to the sounds of the audience's whistles.

"All for you," Draco said in his ear. "You deserve it. Happy birthday Harry." Draco licked his thumb and rubbed his cheek to wipe the lipstick print away. "Heartbreaker," he said before kissing him again.

It was dream like. Harry was on a little cloud, high above. No drug could compare to that sensation. That's what happiness was.

Draco escorted him back to their table and, to Harry's surprise, Pansy made her appearance, a big cake with flares in her hands. Touched by so many treats and attentions, Harry couldn't say a word. The girl put the cake down and rushed to his side. He took her in his arms and kissed her forehead before sitting down and taking the time to enjoy the moment.

Harry closed his eyes.

A wish.

He blew out the candle.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

He was in seventh heaven. The party was a success, they were celebrating his birthday in the most splendid way, and Draco was by his side.

While a few guests stopped by their table to congratulate him, he caught sight of two men standing out from the crowd below. Their outfits were scruffy and they didn't seem like they were here to have fun, their heads searching for something. They were heading to the stairs when the security guys intercepted them. Despite the three heavies circling them, it seemed the two clients were resisting. The music changed and Harry lost all cheer when the lights brightened up, bringing their faces to view. His heart made a jump and his head spun all of a sudden. What were they doing here?

_How…? _

How could it be? How could they know he would be here?

As if the two men had heard his thoughts, they raised their heads toward the balcony and looked straight at him. In their eyes… was it disappointment, reproach or disbelief?

Two tall red heads with clear blue eyes. RON and CHARLIE WEASLEY.

Harry couldn't wrap his head around the fact that the two brothers were here and what it implied. He was drinking tranquilly with the old gang of death eaters, Draco's arm around his waist, his birthday cake in front of him. What did he look like? He could already imagine what they would think of him.

Harry's hand had frozen mid-way, his glass hanging in the air. Draco didn't seem to understand what was going on.

"You alright?" he asked with worried eyes.

But Harry couldn't speak.

Charlie was the bravest, or perhaps the most composed, and spoke first.

"Harry !" he shouted, pushing the bouncers away.

Ron's stare was harsh and Harry wanted to disappear behind the table. Nothing could warrant his presence here and his ties with the Organization. The Weasleys were aware of the gang's reputation.

"Can you call these pitbulls off," continued Charlie.

Harry felt obligated to grant his request. He gestured the security men to let them go and dislodged Draco's arm from him. He hurried to the stairs.

"What a surprise... We'd been told we'd find you here, but we didn't know Malfoy owned the club!" Charlie said when Harry reached them.

Harry took his arm and moved them away in a more isolated corner downstairs. When they were hidden from view, Harry tried to gather his thoughts, having no clue how to act around them.

"When did you relapse?" The first sentence Ron pronounced, reproachful.

"What ? You know I don't take anything anymore !" Harry answered, on the defensive.

"Oh yeah? Then explain to me all these months of absence, not one call, and then, surprise! We find you in one of these new drug hang-outs with that snake Malfoy groping you!" Ron spat, eyes narrowing.

"It's not what you think."

"Yeah, then what is it ?"

Harry felt his heart beat faster now.

He had kept the Weasleys away from him in order to protect them from McCarthy and from the Organization. Harry knew them enough to realize they would have played the heroes, trying to get Remus and him out the Division's clutches. That would have been pure madness: they didn't measure up to McCarthy and the Division. He knew that now.

So he had relegated the Weasleys and that part of him far away, in order to be able to bear the weight of the job. He had known the moment he had agreed to bend to the mission's requirements that it would take a part of his life away. But he couldn't let his friends into the secret. It was easier to play a role without thinking of the ones who cared and worried about you. This way, he had the illusion that the mission was only a parenthesis, and that, once it would be accomplished, he could get on with his life.

But Harry had to admit that things had changed now and that the problem had morphed into a different one: he was beginning to enjoy his role. He wasn't playing with Draco anymore, his feelings were genuine. And to see reality in front of him, the judgment of the Weasleys, their accusations, was a tough blow. How would they understand how he had ended up here, in charge of a gangster hang-out, involved with none other than Draco Malfoy, the leader of the Organization. "

Charlie resumed the interrogation, "And what about Remus? He's not with you?"

At that moment, Harry wanted to confess everything, _"Remus has been caught by the Division, I haven't been given any choice." _It was difficult enough just standing there and lying straight to their faces.

The Weasleys knew Remus' escape hadn't gone as planned. Merely ten days after Harry dropped off the radar, they had found his trace back in London. It was no surprise: the Weasleys had created a whole network to locate their missing friends and to find information about the Division's detention centers .

The Weasleys had flooded his answering machine with messages ever since, and Harry had had to allay their concern for fear of alarming them and risking to see them barge into his apartment.

_"We're safe, but there were some complications. It's nothing serious, but I'd rather you don't come round. Better be careful… I'll have to stay out of touch for a while but I'll call you as soon as I can." _

But a few weeks before Harry approached Draco at the Rosemary's, the phone calls had resumed, more and more persistent. During the mission, he had thought the Weasleys would turn back to their crusade to find Hermione and the others, but now, watching Ron's intransigent and furious stare, he realized how mistaken he had been. Had they been investigating on him all this time?

He eluded the question about Remus and asked Charlie, seemingly less unnerved than his brother, "How did you find me ?"

"An anonymous phone call."

Harry closed his eyes. That's all he needed…

_OK, two options : Lucius or McCarthy._

The first, to put a new barrier between Draco and himself, and to persuade him to leave the group.

The second, to threaten him, find new blackmail material, but what was the point ? Except if there had been complications with Remus. Could it be that his note had pushed McCarthy to find a new target?

Harry prayed for the last option to be the wrong one. In any cases, he had to send them far away. The Weasleys had to leave, and fast.

"Harry, what's going on?" Charlie's voice.

Harry played out all the choices he had in his head, then made his decision.

"Nothing! What do you want me to say? I got fed up with these endless searches. All that work, and we have still no clues about Hermione, Tonks, Teddy, nothing. And I… I'm tired of struggling, the insomnia, the past... I had enough… And then I fell on Draco, and now, everything is different."

Hearing this name from Harry's mouth made Ron grimace.

"He offered me a place in his group, and I accepted."

"You're sleeping with him?"

The question had been blunt and dry, but Harry didn't waver.

"I'm with him, yes, and I haven't felt this good for a long time. I feel free, I can forget all the rest."

And his words were sincere. He wasn't lying.

"You're working with criminals Harry, is that the good life? You're hiding your head in the sand and you think that's going to make everything else disappear. What bloody happened to you?"

"I told you, I moved on. That's it, there's nothing to add."

Ron violently grabbed Harry's arm, infuriated by his behaviour.

"Oh, if you think we're going to let you compromise yourself with this vermin…"

Harry tried to wiggle his arm free but Ron wouldn't let go.

"Stop it ! I tell you I'm fine here."

"You're out of it ! Did they brainwash you or what ? I don't recognize you anymore."

In the wake of their stubborn attitude, Harry made himself more disdainful, "Maybe I got tired of wallowing in self-pity and going around in circles. So you're right, I'm not the one I used to be. For once in my life, I feel good, and if you can't understand that, then you can go."

Ron didn't weaken and told him categorically, "We're not leaving without you, so you might as well say good bye to your new friends."

Draco cut in at this moment. He looked at Harry and asked him, "Is everything alright ?"

He shifted his gaze to Ron's hand clasping Harry's wrist and turned slowly to the redhead, his voice low and threatening :

"You'd better let go off him if you want to go home on both your legs."

Ron dropped Harry's hand without lowering his stare from Draco's. The latter took a sip of champagne, looking back at him, a malevolent glint in his eyes. The hatred was strong between those two.

Draco looked at Charlie, then at Harry, and raised his glass, his smile as brassy as he was fake, "We're all between friends here, yes ?"

Ron spat,"Cut the crap, you're not our friend, and Harry doesn't belong here. Harry…"

But Harry turned away from him and took Draco's hand.

"Come on, they're waiting for us at the table," he said, loud enough for the Weasleys to hear.

But Ron kept on at him, "Harry!"

He tried to grab him by the shirt but Draco caught his wrist before he could do anything.

"That's enough, I think he made himself clear."

Harry faced Ron strongly, his green eyes tired and sad, as though he'd just suffered a defeat. "I appreciate that you worry for me, but I don't need your help. I'm where I want to be."

Confusion marred Ron's features. He searched Harry's eyes, as though trying to find a flaw, to see his former friend again. In vain. He looked down at the floor, fumbled inside his jacket and took a little package out. He handed it to Harry.

"Happy birthday Harry," he said with a disheartened voice.

Harry took the object. It was wrapped in a simple piece of fabric. He looked at it without reaction. He was tempted to reassure the two brothers and tell them he knew what he was doing, but the words wouldn't come out right, and he knew he couldn't keep them here. They had to leave.

Ron seemed to hesitate too, but Charlie pulled him by the shoulder to force him to move. The brothers finally turned away without a word, lips tight, disappointment in their eyes.

Harry felt a pang in his heart. He didn't want to cut his ties, to reject them this vulgarly, in this club, around all the thugs, the booze, the drugs, the naked girls. Suddenly, everything appeared to him as a big circus, the coarse laughter, the fake looks. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

As he was about to leave, Ron moved shoulder to shoulder with Draco and slid in his ear, "Don't think it's over. Harry has nothing in common with people like you."

But Draco was impervious to his threats.

"Don't try to make him chose. You would lose…" he said.

Harry had seen the exchange. At least, Ron hadn't cut him out of his life.

The two redheads were walking away when an obstacle blocked their exit: Lucius on his wheelchair.

Just who he needed to see…

"How are you gentlemen?" Lucius asked, deceivingly cheerful. "Well, I see you're having a little Gryffindor get together. Feeling nostalgic?"

Harry threw him a dark look but Lucius was clearly enjoying himself. The Weasleys didn't even bother with the man and tried to walk past him, but with a swift rotation of his chair, Lucius prevented them from escaping.

"You're not going to leave the party now, it just started! May I remind you that it is Harry's birthday and you are our guests of honour."

Was he the one who called the Weasleys? Lucius was always so ambiguous, it was hard to tell. Maybe he was only taking advantage of the occasion to butt in.

Harry's eyes were spitting fire at him now. Lucius only lifted his eyebrows.

"What, aren't you happy to see your old comrades again?"

Handicapped or not, Harry would feel no remorse in attacking him. Draco appeased him by rubbing circles on his back. He was used to his father's methods. He wasn't worth the trouble.

"Oh, I didn't know you three were not on good terms anymore," Lucius mocked.

Charlie recognized Lucius' ill intentions and decided to cut the conversation short. He completely ignored the man and Harry knew it was maybe the biggest affront he could offer Lucius.

"Harry, if you change you mind, we'll be there for you."

Harry looked up at Charlie with shiny eyes. He wanted to take the two brothers in his arms and explain everything. It had been so long since they last saw each other, and here was the image they would keep of him. But the die was cast. He couldn't go back now. He nodded and the two men headed to the exit. Ron threw him a last look on his way out and disappeared in the crowd.

Harry put the package Ron had given him in his pocket and sidestepped Lucius' chair without a word, Draco following close. They sat down at their table and Harry let himself drift, capturing Draco's lips, the soft kiss removing the bitterness in his mouth. He pulled away and Draco eyed him curiously.

"You okay?" he asked.

Harry opted for a comforting smile and kissed him again to give himself courage. He turned to the others, took a deep breath and clapped his hands, as though putting a full stop to the scene that had just taken place.

"So, what about we cut that cake?"

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Dawn wasn't far away when Harry and Draco got back to their room. Despite their tiredness, they didn't plan on sleeping just yet, entwined and half-dressed on the bed, Harry in a white boxer shorts, and Draco with his black trousers still on.

Draco gently carded his fingers through Harry's hair.

"The Weasleys looked quite upset. I suppose your new lifestyle didn't delight them."

Harry answered, pensive, "Hm. It's fine. I didn't expect them to turn up like that, that's all."

Harry knew he hadn't lost Ron and Charlie. For now, he was simply relieved that he had managed to convince them and keep them away from the gang. The encounter had been one of the worse ordeals he had to overcome, but he would make it up to them. Yes, when they met again.

But when ?

Would he ever get his former life back? Did he still want to?

"Lucius," Draco said.

"Surely."

"Fuck him."

The insult made Harry laugh. What a night it had been. He captured Draco in his arms and landed a few kisses along his jaw.

"How I love your smell…" he purred.

"I know baby."

Harry's body jerked.

"Eh! Where did that come from! Don't call me that!"

Draco laughed. "What's wrong baby?"

Harry punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Stop it!"

Draco protected himself with his arms, eyes glistening with laughter.

"What, you don't like it?"

"I hate it!"

"Come on baby!"

This time, Harry gave him a hard blow on the arm.

"Aww, ok, ok, fine," he yelled, covering his arm with his hand.

Draco kissed Harry cautiously, then more deeply and the brunet sweetly surrendered.

"But I think that in honour of your birthday, it is our duty to fuck like animals," he whispered.

He tackled Harry onto his back and licked his torso, circling his nipples with his tongue. He lingered on the sensitive areas, guided by his lover's moans. Harry closed his eyes and answered in a quivering voice, "Hm, like a tradition, right."

"Yes… for special events," Draco answered between two licks.

"Draco's law..." Harry added in a breath.

Draco slightly lifted his head, eyes in the air.

"I like the sound of that."

Draco slid down Harry's body and lowered the brunet's boxer shorts, the latter wiggling to help him remove them completely. Draco then licked the inside of his thighs, taking care to avoid his cock standing to attention. Harry put his hands on his face, biting his lips. It was torture.

"Draco…" he mewled.

The blonde ended his torment by taking his cock between his lips, slowly, softly. Harry arched his back, his whole body shivering. Draco sucked him for a few more seconds, then Harry ran his hand through the blond hair and brought Draco's face up to him. They kissed, their bodies pressed against each other, then Harry rolled Draco over, inverting their position. Harry needed to be in command tonight.

On top of Draco, he settled astride him, his knees encircling Draco's hips, and unzipped his trousers. He took out the blonde's cock reverently and kept it in his hand while he lifted himself up. He moved to get a comfortable position, sat down and placed the appendage between his cheeks, moving back and forth, caressing the hard flesh with his crack. He kept coming and going, titillating Draco.

" Harry… you wanton tease," the blonde chided.

Harry offered him a cocky smile and began preparing himself with his fingers. Draco looked at him, enrapt by the erotic vision, desire burning in his eyes. Harry took possession of the blonde's cock again, guiding it blindly against his skin and pushed it right where it belonged. He closed his eyes and impaled himself on the erect cock, holding his breath. He sat down slowly, letting it slide inside him, and with shaky hands, he grabbed Draco's thighs behind him to anchor himself. Draco grimaced with pleasure and caressed Harry's legs. Once completely seated on him, Harry stayed still for a moment, Draco gritting his teeth, fighting not to move. Then Harry moved up and went down hard, moaning. He moved his hands to Draco's torso to keep his balance and lifted himself to plant his feet on the bed. Now squatting, he could control his descent and the intensity of the movements. Draco couldn't tear his eyes off him, his position so powerful and domineering. Harry moved again.

"Yeah that's it... fuck yourself on me."

Draco's crude words set Harry ablaze and his movements grew more vigorous. He wanted to forget everything: the Weasleys, Lucius, McCarthy… He wanted to forget his name…

His moans felt like hiccups as he bounced on his lover in a crazy tempo. The heat, the sweat, they were on fire. It went on and on, Harry's thighs burning, his eyes closed under the intensity of their fucking and the effort to keep the rhythm and the position. As if on cue, Draco grabbed his hips firmly and took over. He lifted his hips from the mattress and gave powerful thrusts, lifting and lowering Harry like a spring. The brunet let himself be manipulated, enjoying the break and gazing at Draco with heavy lidded eyes. Draco's thrusts were getting quicker and quicker while Harry's moans kept growing higher and higher. Harry's cries soon became one endless wail and he let himself be submerged into the heat wave. He came all over the blonde's belly, Draco continuing his movements until the pressure around his cock got the better of him and he exploded with a strangled cry, Harry falling down on his torso, both sated and breathless.

"Fucking hell! Wow, happy birthday," Draco shouted jokingly. "Fuck, you were on fire."

Harry let out a weak laugh, exhausted. He had needed this wild fuck to get everything out and, somehow, to have control. With Draco, he could let himself go. As far as sex went, they were in total harmony. Their bodies responded together as if they were made for each other. If only things were that simple out of the bedroom...

Harry put a kiss on Draco's sweaty shoulder and let his breath fall. He stayed in that position for a few moments, Draco still inside of him, the sensation of being so intimately connected giving him a sense of euphoria and peace. But soon, he began to shiver, the heat stroke fading little by little. He pulled away to snuggle under the covers, Draco's semen sliding down his thigh. He lay on his side next to Draco, a content smile on his face.

Sleep was about to overcome him when he felt Draco move behind him. Then something cold came in contact with his neck. He didn't have the force to move and searched with his hands for what was resting on his skin. Draco's fingers snaked around his neck and disappeared. Harry felt the metal under his fingers, then opened his eyes. It was a golden chain with a little key shaped pendant. Harry looked at the dazzling jewel. Pure gold.

He smiled and said, "It's beautiful… But I didn't offer you anything for your birthday…"

Draco looked at the ceiling and sighed.

"I didn't deserve anything."

Harry turned the jewel between his fingers, wondering.

"This key…?"

"Is the key to my heart…" Draco said in a mocking tone, his voice wavering.

Harry pushed his shoulder to make him stop. It wasn't that he was sentimental, but he wanted to know. Was it only symbolic? Didn't a key always led to a secret?

"You can give it whatever meaning you want," said Draco, ambiguously.

Harry kissed him sweetly and turned on his side, his back to Draco. The latter wrapped his waist with his arm while Harry contemplated his gift as he would a treasure.

While Draco had fast fallen asleep, Harry couldn't close his eyes. He slowly lifted the blonde's arm and extricated himself from the covers. Draco shifted but didn't wake up, his breathing deep and his face serene. Harry padded over and picked up his pants from the floor. He rummaged through the pockets and pulled on the white fabric inside. The little package Ron had given him at the club fell out. Harry settled himself before the little secretary desk at the other end of the room and switched the lamp on. He turned around to check that the lamp didn't disturb his lover but the triangle of light didn't go past the little perimeter around him. Reassured, Harry opened the secretary, put the package on the fold-down writing surface and unfolded it cautiously. The piece of fabric opened to reveal a round silver object that Harry recognized easily. Emotion seized him suddenly, his throat and his stomach clenching. He opened the sphere : a little compass. That same one Arthur had given him before he had had to run away with Remus.

_"For you to find your way back home, wherever you are. You will always be welcome Harry, you know that…"_

Harry thought he had lost it, but no. He had probably forgotten it, rushed by the sudden departure.

He rested his elbow on the table, grabbing his hair, making the compass turn inside his other hand to observe it better, taking in the fragments of light playing on the glass frame, the little hand oscillating, never losing North. The Weasleys, his family, his anchor point. And here he went. He had pushed them away. But he had to manage on his own now.

He sniffed and closed the compass. He closed the secretary desk and turned off the light before putting the object back in his pants' pocket. He snaked into the bed, his gestures careful and slow, and slid back to his previous position. He was sure he had been discreet but then, he heard an unexpected groan. Draco turned in a huff and threw his arm around Harry's waist to pull him tight against his torso. Harry smiled and looked up at his face, so innocent in his half-sleep. He sighed. Draco was his present now.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The more time went by, the more Harry grew seduced by his new life. His days came and went between the party preparations at the club, the lunches in fancy restaurants, and his nights and other special times with Draco.

But his lover was often absent. Lucius always found a way to send him away, in missions with Montague. Harry tried to stay reasonable but he couldn't help but be possessive about Draco. He knew Lucius had plans for Montague and his son, and even if it was irrational, he was afraid Lucius would eventually achieve his ends and steal Draco away from him.

Draco was about to leave for Glasgow. Two days without seeing him.

He made his goodbye to the blonde in the doorway, his arms perched on his neck, when Montague appeared, impatient, in the corridor. The man was obviously upset and urged Draco to hurry.

"The train won't wait for us, we're already tight."

Draco looked at him, showing his annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

He went to give a chaste kiss to Harry but the latter was bound and determined to leave an indelible mark on him: he grabbed Draco by the nape to give him the kiss of a lifetime. Their lips opened wide, their tongues sliding in a deep exploration, their faces completely turned aside, lips glued to each other. Montague lowered his stare and Harry caught him out of the corner of his eye, delighted. The kiss ended, and Draco had to reach out for air. Harry had made his claim.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

In the late morning, Harry decided to stop by the newspaper shop before going to the club in order to inquire about McCarthy. When he reached the counter, Tony efficiently gave him a note from the agent. Harry had hoped for a different answer:

_"I have no proof to give you. You are the one who's accountable to us._

Give me real news about Lucius and I'll consider it."

Harry looked at the piece of paper, fingers shaking.

" I'll consider it." Harry had heard this crap before. Remus could be dead or alive, and seeing McCarthy's stubborn attitude, Harry was beginning to fear the worse.

He looked at Tony who was staring at him blankly, then made a ball with the paper in his fist before leaving the place with quick steps. He moved toward a trash can next to the Tube station and threw the note away.

It was over. No more tips, nothing.

McCarthy was lying to him. And if Remus were still alive, it would be up to McCarthy to give him some evidence. He wouldn't bend to his rules anymore.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**August 16 ,2004**

The Elders had left for Belfast the previous day, a problem with bad debtors and new deals to seal. They would stay there for a few weeks. Only MacNair was left out of the trip. Lucius needed his help for other important matters. It was unusual for the Elders to work without the head of their group, but Lucius had explained he wanted an authoritative figure to handle the new recruits.

It was strange to see so many new faces in the offices. Every desk was now occupied. The comings and goings were incessant. The enterprise had taken on a real corporate feel. Even Goyle had blended in with the mass of newly hired bodyguards, despite Draco's protests. Lucius thought it was wiser to surround himself with trained men on shifts. Efficiency and productivity before all. It was hard to get used to the changes. The gang was dispatched, the teams always changed and Lucius pulled the strings. He was the only one who knew the big picture.

Harry only met this little word in the morning and didn't bother to present himself anymore. Lucius organized meetings with the gang, but never included Harry who passed for "Draco's boyfriend" or "the guy from the club".

Draco had been in Lucius' office for a good hour now. That morning, the man had surprised them in the middle of a romp next to the coffee machine, and Harry had a pretty good idea what their meeting was about.

_"Don't let Harry trick you Draco, he's not right for you…"_

Harry had waited for a long moment alone in his room, but the minutes were running by, and Draco had still to return.

Curiosity got the better of him and Harry lost his patience. He went down to Lucius' office and sat on the carpet, right next to the door. It was sound-proof, nothing filtered through. But when the door finally opened, Draco didn't seem upset or annoyed. On the contrary, he looked very calm. Strangely, that didn't comfort Harry.

Harry got up in a second and Draco closed the door behind him. Harry hadn't even had a glimpse of Lucius inside. The two looked at each other from the opposite sides of the hallway. But then, Draco lowered his head. And why didn't he say anything? That only panicked Harry more. What had Lucius come up with this time?

The blonde finally spoke, "I have to leave for two months. Some business I need to take care of in Berlin."

Harry hadn't seen that coming and was staring at him, flabbergasted. He had to ask the first thing that came to his mind: "Montague ?"

Draco sighed. " Harry…"

"What? I just want to know!"

Draco looked at him calmly. "Yes, Montague is coming with me."

Harry flew off the handle. The subject was more than sensitive.

"No! You can't… You've just come back and now this… You know he's trying to break us up! It's another one of his strategies. He wants to take you away…"

Seeing Harry lose his temper, Draco cut him off, "Harry, it's important. It's work, it's nothing personal. And if you trust me so little…"

"I trust you! It's him I don't trust!"

"And you think I'll let him make a pass at me?" Draco interjected.

He paced a bit, then faced Harry again. His voice softened, "Hey, Montague does nothing to me. I've got everything I need, right here."

He touched Harry's arm but the brunet didn't look reassured. He turned his head away and Draco followed the movement, tilting his head on the right to catch his eyes, then on the left when Harry turned away again. Draco frowned.

"What, my promise isn't enough?"

"No, that's not it… " Harry whispered.

"Then what ?"

Harry dampened his lips, his throat suddenly very tight.

"I'm going to miss you," he confessed with a dejected air.

Draco looked at him and Harry lowered his eyes, trying to control his emotions. Draco saw this and smiled. He cupped Harry's face between his hands, looked straight into his eyes.

"You too baby," he said in a low voice.

Harry gave him a playful dig in the ribs with his elbow, winning him a smile from the blonde. Draco resumed more seriously, "I'm going to miss you terribly, but it's only two months." He smoothed the messy black hair down. "I'll be back before you realize that I've I left."

Harry let out a joyless laugh and put his head in the hollow of Draco's neck.

"Promise me you'll be careful." Closing his eyes, he added, "And come back to me soon."

They stayed there, in the corridor, in each other's arms, oblivious to the other recruits passing by.


	18. Out of Sight

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon. And many thanks to MsLefay for her precious corrections.

A/N **: **Beware, dirty talk in this chapter. If you're not a fan, skip September the 4th.

And please, let me know what you think of the story, you guys are so quiet I don't know if you like it or not. As you've probably noticed, I'm not drowning under the weight of reviews. That didn't bother me at first, I like being an outsider :) but lately, this silence started to put doubts in my mind. Like I have something on my face and nobody's telling me! :/ So it would be really nice to hear more about you readers. My sanity is in your hands! Thanks.

* * *

**CHAPTER 17 : OUT OF SIGHT…**

August 30, 2004

The X-Stacy, Monday night. The club was closed but Harry was here to supervise the newest show of the month. Enchanting, ethereal music filled the room. Emilio, a beautiful Italian boy, was dancing under the subdued lighting on stage wearing tight silver latex shorts on, and Harry was watching him dance. Emilio was athletic, his steps both strong and gracious. Harry was perched on the platform and a smile graced his lips as he followed Emilio's sensual moves, his head resting on his elbow. They were alone in the room, everyone had already left. It was a peaceful, beautiful moment. They were almost done with the routine and Emilio was now improvising something else.

Suddenly, the elevator's doors opened and a shadow appeared in the dark. Harry's hand twitched and he snapped his head around, displeased to be disturbed in such a peaceful moment. He wasn't expecting anyone at this time of the night. He spotted the tall silhouette in the far corner of the room and apostrophized the man, "I don't know who let you in, but we're closed."

A deep and gruff voice answered him, "Are you going to throw me out now? You're gaining confidence, aren't you? Fancy that… "

MacNair, in his club again. The man stepped forward and came into the light, a small grin on his face. Harry had had to bear his presence quite a few times lately and this smothering surveillance was getting on his nerves. He didn't understand much about MacNair's method. What interest could he find in standing there and watching him put a show in place or check on the stocks?

MacNair moved closer to the stage near Harry. Emilio undulated on the floor, the mood was phantasmagorical, the synth notes of the music, the vaporous lights and the emptiness of the place, and MacNair's presence felt like a strange interference in all this harmony. Harry felt his concentration slip, sensing MacNair's eyes boring into his back. His temper flared and he whipped his head around, looking frankly at the man.

Tension, silence.

Harry hid nothing of his annoyance, eyes narrowed and lips tight, but MacNair only seemed amused, holding his gaze with ease. The staring contest lasted a few more seconds until Emilio's charming accent woke Harry out of the duel, "Poi, I can do the first sequence of steps again. Yes ?"

Harry turned to him, his features now softer.

"Hum… Okay, let's give it a try."

Emilio resumed his Grecian godlike postures and acrobatic moves. Drawn back to the show, Harry found his concentration again. He folded his legs under him and observed Emilio's every move, blatantly ignoring MacNair. But it wasn't an easy task. Soon, Harry sensed the man approaching. His eyes flickered but he tried to keep his composure. Then, MacNair stopped right behind him, almost touching his back, his presence overwhelming. Harry felt the man's breath on his nape and stiffened on the spot.

"It's very beautiful," MacNair whispered.

Harry stayed put, sitting still on the platform, afraid to move and provoke a reaction from the man. He didn't answer.

McNair was rooted behind him, his hand brushing the brunet's hip now and then, as though it were unintentional. It was disconcerting. Harry didn't understand what the man was playing at, but he didn't want to know. He decided to interrupt the session then, "Thanks Emilio. We'll make one or two adjustments tomorrow, but otherwise it was perfect. Good job."

Emilio gave him a satisfied smile and left the platform. Harry hopped off the stage, slipping past MacNair, and went to gather his notes spread on one of the tables. He could see MacNair waiting from the corner of his eyes.

"You needed something ?" he curtly asked.

"No, Lucius wanted me to come and see how you managed."

Harry scowled.

"Why, he's still worried after two months ? Affairs have never been better, I don't see what the problem is. If he has something to tell me, why doesn't he come here himself?"

His papers in hand, Harry strode to his office next to the dressing-room. Apparently, MacNair hadn't taken his words for the dismissal it was. He followed Harry and appeared at his doorstep. Harry slammed his papers on his desk. He refused to let himself be intimidated, if those were MacNair's intentions.

He was doing his job well, so why the harassment ?

He grabbed his backpack, left the rest behind and darted out of the door, his jaw set, clearly showing his irritation. He pushed MacNair aside to lock the door, then checked the dressing-room to make sure Emilio had left and everything was in order. He opened the electrical panel box and turned off the lights.

He rushed down the stairs, the small night lights lighting his way, not bothering to see if MacNair was behind him. Once at the entrance door, he checked the hall, turned off the last lights, set the alarm on and opened the heavy door. MacNair finally appeared. He quietly exited, eying Harry on his way, then closed the door. He seemed to be amused by Harry's antics, but the brunette was in no playful mood. Harry locked everything up, taking his time, hoping MacNair would take the hint and leave him alone, but when he turned, the man was still there, like a shadow on his heels. Harry shook his head.

What was he still doing here ?

Harry bit the interior of his cheek and swiftly walked away. He was heading to the Tube station, a few streets from there, when he heard behind him, "I'll drive you home."

Harry didn't stop.

"No thanks, I'll walk," he shouted, distancing MacNair.

He kept walking without a look behind. The streets ahead were deserted. A few noises far away, garbage on the floor, few lights around, just the dim glow of one or two lamp posts.

He heard MacNair's car start and drive closer to him. The car slowed down when it arrived at his level and MacNair lowered the window to talk to him. "You're sure you don't want to climb in?"

Harry huffed and quickened his steps, head straight, but MacNair kept up with his pace, the steady hum of the car following him.

"Come on, it's not safe here," he insisted.

Harry was now clearly annoyed and whirled around suddenly. He lashed out, "What's the matter with you? Is it another one of Lucius' twisted plans? What do you want?"

MacNair stopped the car and turned to him, a tired expression on his face.

"Climb in, alright. Lucius asked me to keep an eye on you while Draco's away…"

Harry didn't react and just looked at him wearily. The motor kept running, and MacNair sighed.

"Come on, don't make me beg."

Harry turned his head toward the dark sidewalk, considering the offer. An alarm broke out somewhere and the cold wind made him shiver.

Lucius kept interfering, but that was to be expected. He couldn't get rid of him. Besides, it was late and he was exhausted. He didn't want to argue with MacNair for hours.

He sighed, pulled his backpack closer to him and climbed in the car.

MacNair chuckled. "Wasn't so difficult…"

Harry just turned his head toward the window. MacNair's voice deepened then, "You don't like me, am I wrong?"

No answer. MacNair didn't seem to take offense and kept on, "That's okay. I haven't been fair with you in the past… But that's the job." A beat. "You've impressed me… Did a great job at the club… and you don't take shit from Lucius."

Harry's eyes were riveted to the closed shops on the other side of the window.

"Now I get what Draco sees in you…"

They were nice words, but Harry could see where MacNair was going with this and he wasn't going to put up with this friendly act.

"Cut the crap and drive," he snapped.

MacNair just smiled at his reaction. The car started again. Harry leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The next day at the X-Stacy, it was without surprise Harry found MacNair in his office at the club.

"So that's it, you're spying on me?" he said, dropping his backpack next to his desk. "That's quite ironic, don't you think? After all your accusations."

MacNair grabbed the snow ball that lay on his desk to shake it, the artificial flakes falling on the little angel figure inside, but Harry took the object out of his hands.

"And now, you're Lucius' little lap dog…"

MacNair's features darkened. It was nice to put this big brute at his place.

"Don't fuck with me…" the man bit out in a tense voice.

Harry cocked a brow, amused, and took of his jacket.

"Well I've got work, if you'll excuse me," he said with a mocking smile.

But apparently, his previous comment had hit a nerve and MacNair was wound up, "You're on the same page as me! Old grudges... We dropped him last time and now Lucius thinks he can just dispose of us as he pleases? We're all toys for him. Except his dear Draco of course."

He added with a wicked look, "Lucky bastard that one."

Harry didn't pick up the game and tended to his business, paying no attention. He turned his back on him and reached out to grab a red three ring binder from a shelf when he felt a muscled arm wrap around his waist. The reaction was immediate and Harry elbowed MacNair away.

"Are you out of your mind?" he yelled. He dusted off his shirt as if MacNair had soiled it. "I think you'd better leave."

MacNair pressed his hand against his side, but it was obvious he hadn't really been hurt. His grin was still in place and his mocking air only infuriated Harry more.

"Now!" he yelled.

"What ? Draco's miles away from here, I'm sure he won't mind."MacNair taunted. "He must be enjoying himself with Montague, why shouldn't we have fun too?"

Harry saw red.

"Piss off," he snapped at him before grabbing his arm to push him out of the room.

It was an unfortunate move. The man was heavy and took advantage of Harry's proximity to pull him closer and strike again: he captured Harry's mouth in a swift and brutal movement. It all happened fast and Harry had no time to defend himself when rough hands gripped his ass and pushed him against the shelves. The piles of files and binders wobbled as Harry fumbled with his hands to take hold. MacNair was all over him, his stubble scratching his skin while his tongue plundered his mouth. It was nauseating. But Harry recovered quickly from the shock, and as soon as he found his balance back, he bit MacNair's lips, startling the man. With a cry, MacNair's hands dropped and Harry took advantage of his surprise to push him away with a cry.

He staggered to the door and opened it wide.

"You asshole, get the fuck out of here !" he shouted before wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

He turned to stare outside, the club's music resounding in the corridor. MacNair didn't move right away. He stood in the middle of the room, seemingly abashed, two fingers on his lips.

"The kitten has claws," he slurred.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Harry shouted louder.

A dark chuckle, then MacNair's steps approached. Harry slightly shivered, his nerves wired tight. The man stopped in the doorway next to him and stared. Harry's face was turned away but MacNair could still see the trembling of his lips, his red cheek and his eyes staring at the wall. He just smiled and left. Harry's posture changed in the blink of an eye. He let out a breath and leaned against the door, his shoulders slumped.

He hadn't seen that coming. MacNair attacking him like that… it wasn't his style.

Once he got back to his senses, he ran a shaky hand through his hair and grabbed his cell phone to call Draco. He needed to hear his voice and make sure he was alright. He had to admit MacNair's words had disturbed him.

What if he were right…

Draco was far away, he could do whatever he wanted. Harry would never know.

It rang and rang but Draco didn't answer and Harry went through voice mail.

"Hey…" he muttered. " I just wanted to know if you were alright… Call me back."

Mabelle was about to enter the dressing-room when Harry came out of his office. She stopped in her track and looked at him. Her left hand on the wall, the other one on her lip, she drawled, "Honey, I don't like what I see in those beautiful eyes. Come talk to Mabelle."

She always had the ability to pick up Harry's mood, but this time, he didn't feel like confiding in her.

"Thank you Mabelle, but I'm fine," he said.

"Hey, you can't fool me sweetheart."

With that, she came up to him and took his hand to lead him to the dressing-room. He followed her with a sigh and a tired "Mabelle…" but she ignored it and chased a dancer away. The dressing room was a mess, there was make up everywhere, dirty cotton, clothes scattered all around. Mabelle threw a pair of stockings away and put a resistant Harry on a chair, in front of the mirror. She placed herself behind him and observed his reflection, tapping her chin with her index finger.

"We're going to play a little game," she said.

Harry grimaced and whined, "Nooo… I'm not in the mood…"

Harry grabbed the back of the chair, about to get up, but she blocked him with her long leg.

"Sit," she commanded. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down on the chair. "Tell me what's wrong or you'll leave me with no choice but to pull out the big guns."

She brandished a make-up brush with roguish eyes. Harry craned his neck to glower at her.

"Mabelle… " he said in a warning tone.

"Harry… " she answered in the same tone.

Harry sighed."Alright, alright… MacNair, he… he made a pass at me."

She lifted a brow. "The big brute with the vulture eyes."

"That's the one."

"You want me to take care of him?" she asked with an intrepid air.

Harry burst into laughter.

"What, you're going to shoot him?"

Mabelle crossed her arms.

"Ooh, that's way too vulgar for me, honey. I'm a lady!" she said with shiny eyes. "No. We, women, have more tricks up our sleeves."

She rubbed her thumb against the pulp of her fingers and stretched her hand to look at her inordinately long nails. They looked very sharp under the mirror spots. She smiled and looked at him with a knowing smile. Harry laughed again.

"Thanks but I can handle MacNair."

"Hm…" she moaned doubtfully. "And is there anything else weighing on you?"

Harry shook his head but his sad eyes talked for him.

"Not even a tall blonde Apollo who recently took off ?" she asked, a warm smile on her lips.

Harry sighed and lowered his head, anxiety overcoming him again. Mabelle abruptly tapped his cheek with the dreaded brush, leaving a pink streak of blusher on his left cheek. Harry looked at her as though she had slapped him. Then she gave another stroke of blusher on his other cheekbone.

"You know, it looks fabulous on you !" she said with calculating eyes.

Harry stepped away and vigorously rubbed his cheeks.

"Hell no!"

Harry knew what she had in mind.

Mabelle made a step forward. "You know, Draco might be in the transvestite kind of mood. Hm, fishnet stockings, stilettos, a tight mini dress to reveal these gorgeous legs and this cute ass of yours. Oh, I'm sure it would drive him crazy."

Harry stayed speechless for a moment, picturing himself in the outrageous outfit.

"Yeah, crazy in the head! "

Mabelle shrugged. "You don't want to try it? Fine, you don't know what you're missing… "

She tilted her head, her lips in a pout, and Harry couldn't hold himself in front of her starlet mimics. He laughed, took her hand and kissed it to mellow her.

" Mabelle, you know I love you with all my heart."

She smiled and swiped the air with her hand. "Alright… go! I release you."

At that moment, Harry's cell phone rang out.

_Draco. _

Harry beamed on the spot. He pressed the button to answer.

_"Hey, I got your message." _

This voice, Harry had craved for it. His idiot smile wouldn't leave.

"Yes, I wanted to know how you were doing…"

Next to him, Mabelle whispered, "Tell him about MacNair."

Harry frowned. He covered the phone with his hand and mouthed "NO", shaking his head. Mabelle gave him a disapproving stare.

_"It's not simple... We had a few problems with an uncooperative group, but our appointment schedule is full. We're awfully busy... And you, how are you ? Everything's going well at the club ?"_

The reception was loud and Draco's voice could be heard through the phone.

"Yes, we're quite busy too," Harry said, surveying Mabelle from the corner of his eyes. It proved useless. She suddenly shouted, "Why don't you tell him about MacNair ?"

Harry's eyes bulged while Draco's voice darkened on the phone,_"Why ? What about MacNair ?" _

"Nothing," Harry said, leaving his seat.

But Mabelle sing sang with a teasing voice, "Li-ies !"

Harry whipped his head around and screeched, "Mabelle !".

_"Harry, what is this about MacNair?" _

Harry turned his mouth, throwing a murderous look to Mabelle who blew him a kiss in return. He left the room and tried to tone down the situation, "It's nothing…"

_"Did he give you any trouble?"_

Harry locked himself in his office and answered, "No, it's not a big deal."

_"Why, did he threaten you ?.. Tell me!"  
_  
Harry rubbed his forehead, his eyes already tired. " No, I…"

_" … Did he touch you ?"_

Harry winced and stayed mute.

_" What ? He TOUCHED YOU ?" _

Harry ran his hand through his hair, his face all scrunched up. Mabelle and her big mouth… and here he was, with a furious Draco in the other side of the Channel.

"Just… Listen, it's nothing, it's over. I just wanted to know…"

Draco didn't let him stray from the matter in hand, _"The fuck it's over. I'm going to fucking kill him!"_

" No, listen ! It's alright, he wasn't in his right mind. It's settled, okay ?" His voice turned calm and authoritative. "I don't want you to do anything, you hear me."

He wouldn't create another conflict within the gang. This was for him to deal with it.

_"I swear to you the minute I come back…"_

"I know, I know," Harry smiled.

He stayed quiet as he sat on his chair, eyes soft.

_"Okay, I don't want to upset you. I just…"_

"Yeah…" Harry whispered.

Draco's virulent reaction and his possessiveness were almost touching now that the storm had passed. Harry took a deep breath and said in a longing voice, "I can't take it anymore, I want to see you."

Draco's voice turned tender too, _"Soon baby, soon."_

Harry lifted his eyes to the sky and sighed.

"Draco, why do you always have to ruin everything?"

He heard Draco laugh and it was enough to erase all his troubles.

When he returned in the early evening, Harry walked by the newspaper shop in the corner. He had gone in several times before to check if McCarthy had left a note for him, but Tony had always been empty handed. He wondered what this silence meant. Was McCarthy trying to find a way for him to talk to Remus? But Harry knew better. This silence had gone for too long. McCarthy was probably searching for a way to force Harry to cooperate again. There was nothing else to do but wait and see. Harry was ready to confront McCarthy, face to face. They had a lot to talk over.

Each time he passed by the shop though, he had this fear that McCarthy and his men would suddenly come out and assault him. But didn't they need him? Maybe he had the upper hand after all.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**September 4, 2004**

It was late in the night and Harry had gotten comfortable in Draco's room. He couldn't sleep in his own bed anymore. He looked at the silent room. Here, he could find his man's presence, in the way his things were neatly tidied, in the tie that he had hung on the chair before leaving. His head buried in the pillow, he reveled in Draco's smell. He was lying on top of the covers, in a tee-shirt and boxer shorts, the silk playing against his skin, reminding him of the soft touch of his lover.

How he missed Draco. It had been less than three weeks since he had gone, but Harry was already in need. It was like the strongest drug, and Harry was an expert about addictions. He didn't think he would feel such a void inside after so little time. His routine weighed more on him without their loving interludes and their little banters. His world revolved to Draco's rhythm, and now he felt more lonely and fragile that he had been in a long time.

Did Draco feel the same way? Was he thinking about him ?

He took the phone on the bedside table and dialed a number. Ring tone.

_"Hello?"_

Harry immediately found his smile back. He answered playfully, "Hello sir, I'm looking for a stud to make my nights less cold. Do you have one somewhere in your catalog?"

Draco answered with a suave voice, playing along with ease, _"Hm, I'm sure we can fulfill your desires." _

Harry could hear the grin in his voice. He pictured the spark in the blonde's eyes. He closed his eyes and groaned, " Rrrah, I can't stop thinking about you ! What are you doing to me, huh, did you put a spell on me?"

_" Oh, I didn't tell you ? I've still got some magic in me, but shhh, you can't tell anyone."  
_  
Harry smiled but it was still strange to joke about it. They rarely talked about magic: it was a sensitive subject still, and the discriminations they had suffered had made it all the more taboo. Magic had always been part of him, like a life source. Since it had left him, he had had to rediscover sensations and feelings without this energy running through his veins, like an electrical current in his body. The loss had been terrible. Something had died in him that day. In all of them. But love, this strength greater than him, uncontrollable and wild, was as powerful as this. Yes, there was magic in it.

Harry sighed, lost in his thoughts a moment and then reopened his eyes. He returned to more banal matters, "How is it going over there ?"

_" As fine as can be."_ He stopped and his voice sounded more distant. _"Yes, yes, ten o'clock."_ He was speaking to someone else. _" Okay, good night."_ Then, an imperceptible answer.

The foreign voice brought him back to Draco's situation, the distance between them and the ignorance it implied, putting unpleasant images in his head. How imagination could be deceitful.

"Do you share you room with Montague?"

_"Harry." _Again, this tone of reprimand.

Harry was stupid to imply that something was going on, but he couldn't help it. Always this imperious need to be comforted about his feelings, an impulse that tore him up inside.

"No, that's not what I meant… I don't know… I was wondering… Do you two hang out ?"

_"We're working together, Harry, and no, I have my own room. Anything else?" _

Harry crumpled his face in his hands. Why was he so jealous? It was like a burning ball in his stomach. Just hearing Draco made him want to go through the phone and make sure everything was fine.

"Forgive me. It's just a passing craze..."

There was a silence, and then, the conversation took a surprising turn.

_"Are you in your room ?"_ Draco asked in a mischievous voice.

Harry didn't catch his tone and answered, nonchalant, "Yes. Well, no, I'm on your bed actually."

But Draco's intention was all but innocent.

_"I' d love to touch you now… We may not be able to apparate anymore, but we can be inventive… Have you ever had phone sex ?" _

Harry was a bit unsettled. His earlier joke was all but serious. He had never done this, at least not that he remembered. He had experienced just about everything in the past, but always in a drug induced state. Now, it was different, and he didn't know what to do.

"I… I don't know…" he stuttered.

But Draco opened the dialogue, _"What are you wearing?"  
_  
Harry lowered his chin to look at his clothes and pulled on his shirt with one hand. "Just a white tee-shirt and blue striped boxer-shorts."  
_  
"Harry, Harry… we really need to rethink your wardrobe."  
_  
"It's just clothes…"  
_  
" Hm."  
_  
Harry wanted to visualize Draco too, "What about you ? Where are you?"  
_  
"I'm on my bed too. I'm only wearing black boxer briefs. My hand is already inside. I'm slowly wanking, thinking about your mouth on my dick."  
_  
Harry blushed at the image he had evoked, even though no one else could hear them. Draco went on, perceptively, _"I can see your cheeks turning red. I love it when I have that effect on you."  
_  
" Draco…"

Harry was on unfamiliar ground and he couldn't quite relax. He felt embarrassed and clumsy, whereas Draco talked without inhibition, his voice deep and assured. Harry was turned on but couldn't let go.  
_  
"Tell me what you're doing ?"  
_  
But Harry wasn't doing anything. He decided to take off his tee-shirt. He might not know what he was doing, but he was trying.

"I… I'm torso naked on the bed and I… I start touching myself."  
_  
"Where?"  
_  
Harry tentatively ran his hand on his torso.

"I'm caressing my… my nipples."

The words were so difficult to get out. Why did they sound so embarrassing in his mouth? To speak and hear them made them so erotic and perverse.  
_  
"Are they already hard under your fingers?"  
_  
"Yes."

Harry's voice was shy and Draco chuckled at the end of the line.  
_  
"I want to take them between my teeth. Can you feel it? You feel my tongue on your nipple?"  
_  
Harry closed his eyes and tried to let his imagination carry him away, guided by Draco's voice.

"Yes."  
_  
"That's good. Now I'm sliding my tongue down, very slowly… I stop at your navel."  
_  
"Yes."  
_  
"I'm lingering on it, playing with the tip of my tongue… Now I'm licking around it, and I go south, just above your waistband. I'm running my hot tongue under the elastic. You know what's coming…"  
_  
"Hm hm," Harry moaned, sliding his hand in his boxer shorts to take his cock.  
_  
"Don't touch yourself," _Draco chastised as if he had seen him.

Harry removed his hand and touched the band of his underwear, mimicking the imaginary trace of his lover's tongue on him.

Draco resumed, _"I'm slowly lowering your boxer shorts."  
_  
Harry accompanied the words with the gesture.  
_  
"I free your cock, gently touching it. What does it look like ?"  
_  
Harry, now fully engrossed in the game, made himself more daring.

"It's hard, all engorged… waiting for your mouth."  
_  
"Good. Now I'm sliding the tip of my tongue on your pink glans…. softly. Just a lick..."  
_  
Harry bit his lip and ran his thumb on the head of his cock.

"Hm… feels good."  
_  
"I begin to suck the tip in my mouth, you feel it ?"  
_  
" Oh yes…. Again."  
_  
"I'm sucking you good now, harder and harder."  
_  
Harry started wiggling over the covers, stroking himself.

"Hm…"  
_  
"I remove my mouth. You feel the loss ?"  
_  
Harry whined, his brows furrowed.

" Hm, I want more."

Draco chuckled almost darkly and kept on, _"Very nice… I'm coming for more, I'm taking you whole in my mouth."  
_  
"Aah…!" Harry caressed himself harder.  
_  
"Can you feel the back of my throat ?"  
_  
" Hm hm... It's warm and humid."

Harry's orgasm was building fast. It had been too long...  
_  
"Just the way you like it. I'm running my tongue on all your length. You're getting rock hard."  
_  
"Yeah I… " It was getting harder to talk now. "I want to come in your mouth."  
_  
"Uh-uh, not so soon."  
_  
Harry reluctantly slowed down his motions, his other hand clammy against the phone.  
_  
"I want to take you. Prepare yourself."  
_  
Harry half-opened his eyes. He hadn't thought it would go this far, but finally, he let himself completely go. He put his fingers in his mouth, the sucking noise making Draco moan, then he introduced his index finger at his entrance. A gasp.  
_  
"Tell me what you're doing."  
_  
" I… I put… one finger."

Harry was embarrassed to describe what he was doing, the words sounding cruder than the act.  
_  
"Hm, are you tight ?"  
_  
"Yes."  
_  
"Enter a second one for me."  
_  
Harry complied and groaned.  
_  
"Is it uncomfortable ? "  
_  
"It just… burns a little… but it's passing now."  
_  
"A third ?"  
_  
Harry continued and started to relax.  
_  
"Yes, prepare yourself well for me, "_ encouraged Draco.

Harry moved his fingers between his legs now wide apart.  
_  
"I'm wanking and my cock is hard, waiting for you. Are you ready ?"  
_  
" Hm hm," whispered Harry, more aroused than ever.  
_  
"I'm positioning myself, you feel me, just at your entrance?"  
_  
" Yes, yes, come now," he ordered impatiently, his feet digging on the covers.  
_  
"Watch out, I'm pushing inside. Yesss… You feel it ? You feel your ass swallowing me ?"  
_  
" Fuck... Faster…"  
_  
"Slow down baby, I want you to feel it going in… deeper and deeper…"  
_  
Harry plunged his fingers deeper inside him and beads of sweat stood out on his brow. The heat was rising, he could almost feel Draco's cock inside him.  
_  
"That's it, I'm completely sheathed inside you. How does it feel ?"  
_  
"Hm… feels full," he panted.

Draco let out a sensual laugh and his breath sounded ragged too. Harry imagined him masturbating on his bed, just thinking of him.

He sighed with pleasure.  
_  
"I'm pulling out, almost all the way, and I'm sinking in again. Hm… I can hear the noise of your ass slapping against my hips…"  
_  
"Yes, harder…"  
_  
" I'm at your command."  
_  
Harry contorted himself, his hips lifting up and his back arching.  
_  
"I'm pounding into you… pinning you to the bed."_ A pant._ "I'm imprisoning your wrists on the sheets... You're at my mercy."_

" Hm…" Harry squeezed the phone tighter to mirror the action, still fucking himself with his other hand, pressing his balls at the same time.  
_  
"I'm fucking you like crazy… hm…. Faster… You feel… hm… the power of my cock."  
_  
"Yesss, yesss… too much…. Hmpf..."

Harry could barely talk, overwhelmed by the pleasure, on the verge of coming.  
_  
"I'm almost there… fuck!" _Draco's breathing was growing louder and louder.

"Yes, come… come inside me."  
_  
"Hm.. almost… hm…"_

There were only loud panting, moans and other suggestive sounds. Then Draco let out a long cry in the speaker. The sound was enough to make Harry undone and he shot on his belly with a big scream.

"Shit… " he swore in between two pants.

On the phone resting in his limp hand, he could hear Draco's heavy breathing.  
_  
"Very nice for a first time…" _the blonde finally said, still out of breath.

"Yeah… it was… it was…"  
_  
"Yeah…"  
_  
Harry laughed and wiped his feverish forehead with his hand. He felt tired all of a sudden.

Then, Draco's voice on the phone, _"I kiss you with all I have left."  
_  
Harry smiled. "I kiss you back."  
_  
"Good night."  
_  
" Hm, good night," Harry answered in a murmur.

He hung up and stretched for a moment. He let his head fall to the side, gazing at the bathroom door. He sighed and summoned what little energy he had left to get up. He felt nicely fucked and sore, and couldn't believe Draco hadn't been in the room. He ruffled his hair and laughed, dragging his feet to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Phone sex.

A strange but nice experience. They should try it again. Clearly.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**September 10, 2004**

McNair hadn't stopped stalking Harry at the club, but he kept his distance now. The way he looked at him was still highly disturbing, heavy and malicious, and Harry was no longer at ease at work. He couldn't fathom why the man was acting so forward with him and he just hoped Draco's return would solve his predicament.

Then, that evening, Zabini informed him that MacNair had left to join the Elders in Belfast. Harry welcomed the news with relief. So, Lucius had lifted the surveillance. He probably had realized that his little plot would never work. Nothing could break him and Draco apart.

As he was leaving for a business meeting with the communication manager of a new alcohol brand, Harry found Lucius in the corridor. It had been a while since they hadmet like this. They usually avoided each other, but Harry was determined to put the record straight. He happened to have a few minutes before him.

Time to talk.

They were face to face, separated by a few meters, sizing each other up as if ready to draw their guns. Harry didn't stay still long and moved forward to close the distance, but once he arrived before Lucius, the man acted as if he wasn't there, rolling his chair past him. Harry would have none of that. He blocked his way, standing in front of him, the wheelchair too large to evade him. Lucius lifted his eyes and cast him a disdainful look. They were alone, no more comedy was needed.

"So, you decided to send your lapdog away… MacNair, really?"

Lucius smiled cruelly.

"I sensed his interest for you, so I just gave him a little push… A natural leader, powerful and sexually needy… just how you like them, right? I thought you'd be pleased."

If that was the way he wanted to play it, then so be it.

"You think you can come between us? That Draco's just a fling? You don't get it. We're together, and I'm here to stay. You'd better get used to it."

Lucius' eyes darkened, his tone full of venom, "Oh, you're sadly mistaken my boy. I know my son. He will take what he wants from you and then he will tire of you, like he did with everybody else. He's a Malfoy, he won't let himself be fooled, not even for a nice piece of ass. Because that's all you are, you realize that… or maybe you're too naïve to see it?"

"You're in for a big surprise Lucius, believe me," said Harry reigning in his temper.

Lucius wouldn't trick him. He would remain dignified until the end.

"We'll see about that when Montague and he will come back hand in hand from their little trip. He is a man, a real one… They will do wonders together..."

Then he added with unconcealed pleasure, "Already, back in their Hogwarts days, they made such a nice couple..."

His words hit Harry like a hammer to the chest.

"What ?" he blurted out.

Lucius viciously continued, "Draco didn't tell you? Strange…"

Harry felt so confused. He was supposed to bring Lucius down a peg but the conversation had turned against him.

Why had Draco hidden their liaison from him? Draco had told him they were old friends, nothing more. And if he had lied this time, what other lies could he have told him?

A bit shaken, Harry stepped aside to lean on the wall, eyes cast down. Lucius, proud of his victory, didn't add another word. Now that the way was cleared, he took his leave, the electrical sound vanishing down the corridor.

Once out of the building, Harry took out the golden little key out of his shirt and squeezed it hard in his hand.

Was it true? Had Lucius guessed right when he said their story was just a banal liaison?

Harry wanted answers, and he wanted them right now. He called the object of his suspicions for the umpteenth time.

He heard laughter at the other end of the line, male laughter. Then, after a moment, _"Harry?"_

Draco's voice was so joyful, and it didn't feel right. Harry held back the accusations that burnt his tongue. Instead, he said, falsely interested, "Hey, I just wondered if everything was going as you wished… How are you?"

_"Very good, very good…" _Draco answered, sounding distracted.

His obvious lack of interest and his laid-back attitude broke the last straw. Harry had to ask, "And how's Montague?"

The words had sounded accusing and Draco's reaction could be nothing but harsh, _"Harry, let's not go down that road. Is that why you're calling me?"_

This only angered Harry more.

"Why does it bother you?" he asked, spiteful. "If there's nothing between you two, why don't you just say it ?"

Draco let out a bitter laugh.  
_  
"Because you're being ridiculous."  
_  
The word was thrown.  
_  
Ridiculous ?  
_  
Ridiculous to worry, to demand answers ? When he had lied to him… They were so far away from each other. Harry needed to be reassured, not lectured.

"Why? I just want to know what my boyfriend does behind my back! I heard that you two had been going out! When did you plan to tell me?"

A sigh at the other end of the line.  
_  
"Harry, that was a long time ago. It doesn't matter anymore."_ He sighed again._ "I saw no point…"_

" No, of course, because you're so honest all the time. Really with your past record, why should I worry?"

No more sound. Then, Draco's voice came back, sharp and cold.

_"I'm hanging up." _

The line went dead and Harry squeezed the phone in his hand, on the verge of throwing in on the ground. He paced in front of the Tube station, rubbing his nape.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

It had been an idiotic move. He knew his past was far from pretty either, why did he have to say such a thing? Now that his mind was clearer, his jealousy crisis seemed so embarrassing and unwise. Draco didn't tell him about Montague, it was true, but it might be for his own good, to protect him.

Damn Lucius, he had won this one.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**September 13, 2004  
**  
Harry was at the River Building that evening. He couldn't reach Draco. Despite the tons of messages he had left, there were still no word from him and his silence was killing him.

He was wandering in the halls when he caught sight of Pansy, seated on the carpet in the corridor, her white dress pooling around her. She was observing the comings and goings of the employees and the discussions behind the window panes. Harry sat beside her, his legs folded against his chest.

Pansy didn't acknowledge him, keeping on with her observations. She turned her head right and left, then said, bunching up her nose, "I don't recognize anyone. Where do they all come from ? They look like a hive… Where are they running to like that? Don't they ever stop?"

Harry looked at the men moving around as though wandering without goal, simple extras in the building. The ranks of the group were growing and growing, and it was hard to follow the new arrivals and the latest departures. Lucius had fired several of his men because of their lack of efficiency and devotion. And as soon as someone left, another one came to replace him. An army of young ambitious men and women, ready to serve him. They seemed so avid with money and success it was scary at times. There and then, they would pull dirty tricks on each other, plotting against one another to climb the social ladder. Harry appreciated his position at the club all the more, far away from those schemes.

Oddly enough, he missed Nott, Zabini and the Elders. Their "old school" Organization had the merit to show itself for what it was, unlike this fake enterprise. There was something menacing in this cold, bland facade, those formatted offices.

"I miss our life from before, at the villa…"Pansy said, sharing the same thoughts.

Harry crossed his arms on his knees and retorted in a soft voice, "See the good side of the situation, the gang had never looked as united or peaceful as now. Don't you feel how simpler it is now? It's not the same tension anymore, the fear in the stomach."

"The other side of the mirror," she said, enigmatically.

Harry appreciated what he was living now because this masquerade allowed him to forget what was going on behind closed doors. He could lie to himself, and that's what he needed now: to empty his head and enjoy life.

The downfall might be that much harder.

Harry let fall his head against the wall. "Do you think it's hiding something ?"

"I don't like Lucius," she said as a way of answer.

"Same here."

She looked at him with obvious concern. "We won't even know what's hit us until it comes crashing down."

They kept looking at the corridors from both sides, like two spectators in front of a show.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The night had fallen and Harry entered Draco's room to go to sleep, as usual. He was about to turn the lights on, his hand on the switch, when a dark voice stopped him, "Leave it off."

He discerned a black silhouette on the bed, the shadow slightly detaching itself from the city lights through the window. The voice was hardly recognizable, but Harry knew it by heart.

"Draco?" he asked worriedly.

The man didn't answer. Harry lightly stepped forward and stopped in front of him. He looked closer, trying to perceive his features, his eyes, but it was too dark to see.

"You weren't supposed to come back until next month…"

He fumbled to sit on the bed next to him, but Draco stayed still. Harry lowered his hand and found Draco's sleeve. He was about to press his arm when the deep voice resounded again, "Something… happened."

Harry's heart jumped a beat. He pulled his hand away instantly and let it rest on his lap. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear more. The blonde's voice was shaky, and Harry could feel the tears were close. He knew it was a fateful sign.

"I'm sorry… I never meant to do it… "

Harry could barely breathe. He had warned Draco. How could he have done it…

"What…" Harry's voice stayed caught in his throat. He felt the rush of emotions drowning him. He guessed it was bound to happen.

"I fucked it all up," Draco croaked.

That's what it amounted to… Harry would have liked more eloquence, a real apology.

"I can't believe you… " he whispered, the pain of Draco's betrayal crushing his heart.

That was too much. He couldn't stand the darkness anymore. He wanted to look into Draco's eyes. It was too easy to hide. Draco had to confess to his face. The truth deserved light.

Harry got up shakily, and turned off the lamp. What he saw made him lose his breath.

Draco's hair was in disarray and fell in his eyes, his face livid. Even his suit was crumpled, tightly wrapped around him like a cover. He was terrible to see. His eyes were glassy and riveted on the floor. It was a pathetic sight. Harry had never seen the blonde so devastated, but a part of him was glad that he was suffering as much as him.

"Why?"

The blonde shook his head, eyes watering.

Harry clenched his teeth and crouched down to look straight at him.

"Why?" he repeated more harshly.

The blonde fiddled his fingers, his breathing erratic and mumbled, "I had no choice…"

Harry frowned.

Then he saw a little stain on Draco's shirt, just on the corner of his suit's collar. He stretched out his hand to touch the fabric and slowly, the suit opened to reveal a huge, dark stain of blood all over Draco's chest, down to his waist.

Harry was dumbstruck, open mouthed before the horror. He removed his hand for fear of hurting Draco and looked at him with wide eyes and trembling lips.

"Oh my… Draco, you need to go to the hospital! We have to go now!"

He grabbed Draco's hand and pulled it up to make Draco get up. Draco let himself be manipulated, his arm raised and his wrist lying limply in Harry's hand, but he didn't move from the bed. A tear ran down his face as he sat there, amorphous.

"Draco!" Harry freaked out, almost hyperventilating. " You… You need to come, you… you're hurt, you need to go the hospital ! You… You lost too much blood…."

His words seemed to finally reach Draco who let out in a faint voice, "It's not mine."

Harry's face fell, expressionless. He let go of Draco's hand. "Who …?"

Draco sniffed, eyes still lowered.

"We wanted to gauge the competition. There was this group who controlled most of the drug traffic. We had to see if we could find a solution… envisage an association. We went to that big red brick house… to discuss things. They didn't want to hear a thing of course…" He frowned then, eyes flickering. "I… I was about to leave when Montague and Bennie started to shoot. They fired bullets after bullets at them, and… and… their families were upstairs…. They got alerted by the shouts and… and they came down… They didn't even hesitate!"

Draco's eyes were haunted now, rubbing his hands against each other.

"They butchered them, all of them…" His voice broke, "There were these three kids… they were lying on the stairs like broken dolls, and this boy… this boy, he was still breathing… he was so small. I… I took him in my arms. His eyes…. His eyes were so clear… an angel…"

Draco shook his head. Snot was running out of his nose and his words were turning confused, more and more nervous.

"He was whimpering…. My hands were red… It was too late… So much pain… 'Do it, fucking do it' he shouted... I didn't want to."

Draco buried his head in his hands, sobbing, and then he blurted out in a dark voice, "I shot."

Harry's eyes watered as he visualized the dreadful story in his head. He was powerless in the wake of Draco's distress and the blonde kept talking as though he couldn't close the floodgates.

" Lucius had ordered the guys to execute them in the instance they'd refuse to cooperate. Leave no witness. They continued upstairs. One by one…. I could hear the women screaming… "

Harry could feel a ball rising in his throat. The massacre. And that monster had given the orders. He had been right from the beginning. Lucius hadn't changed, and Harry could barely fathom the consequences of his actions on his son.

"I have killed, but not like that… Innocents, defenseless… Not like that…"

At least, he had not lost his soul. Draco who prided himself on having no rules, no morals, and here he was, crying for the death of these families. Harry discovered him in all his vulnerability. He was horrified by what he had been through, but also relieved that he was reacting this way, that he would be affected by a death. After Flint, he had feared the blonde was nothing but a cold blooded murderer. That even though he might love him, a human life meant nothing for him.

"I had to get away… I just… I ran and ran…. I don't even remember how I got here…"

Harry looked at his dirty shirt. Draco had travelled all this way and hadn't even changed, but seeing the trauma he was in, it was no surprise. It was a blessing he had come back safe.

Harry touched Draco's shoulder. The blonde jumped and looked up at him with dull eyes. The sight broke Harry's heart and the brunet embraced him, holding him tight. He felt the broken body shaking against him, the hot tears sliding on his neck.

"It will be alright, it will be alright," Harry said.

The comforting words sounded so hollow, but he couldn't find anything else to say.

When the blonde slowly calmed down, Harry led him to the bathroom. He made him siton the bathtub's edge and gently removed his jacket. Draco let him, eyes empty. Harry knelt in front of him and took off his bloodied shirt. He let it fall on the floor and took off Draco's shoes and socks one by one, Draco instinctively leaning on him. Harry gently caressed his feet before getting up, pulling Draco with him. The latter swayed a little but kept quiet.

Harry's moves were slow and patient, full of tenderness. Each time he glanced at Draco, the blonde seemed unresponsive, so lost. He wanted to take his pain away. Harry caressed his cheek and continued to undress him with care. He undid Draco's pants and pulled them down, steadying the blonde by the hips for fear he would fall. He lowered himself and tapped on his left ankle to make him lift it, then pulled the pants' leg and the boxers out. He repeated the same maneuver with the right foot, Draco putting his hand on Harry's shoulder to keep his balance. It felt like undressing a child.

Draco was now completely naked, dried blood over his chest. Harry lifted his eyes once more, his look both tender and sad, and ran his hand on the blonde locks, softly smoothing them. Draco sniffed a few times, his body shaking suddenly. Harry took his hand then and guided him onto the shower cabin.

Once Draco was inside, he rapidly took off his own clothes to join him. He placed himself behind him, encircling him with his arms and then turned the water on. Draco's hair was plastered around his face and fell on his forehead as the water flowed over him. The droplets slid over his body and soon, the water became red at his feet, swirling down the plughole. Harry poured liquid soap on his hands and scrubbed Draco's body from head to toewith meticulous care, mapping all his body with his fingers. He took the shampoo and washed his hair next, Draco scrunching his eyes shut to avoid letting the soap lodge inside. Harry rinsed the blonde strands, his eyes serious, focused on the task. Satisfied, he pulled Draco out of the cabin and wrapped him in a big soft towel, carefully rubbing him with it. Draco lifted his eyes toward him at last. Harry froze, the contact so unexpected and heartbreaking. He offered his lover a smile and dropped a quick kiss on his lips before resuming the drying.

Back in the room, both naked, Harry unmade the bed and lay Draco down under the sheets. He joined him and covered both of them with the big cover. All was silent except for the rustling of the sheets and the sound of the mattress moving. Harry wiggled closer to Draco and pulled him into a tight embrace, the blonde's head against his shoulder. He felt Draco's hand against his, and was glad to see his lover finally responding to him.

_He will recover. It will be alright._

Harry kissed Draco's neck and outstretched his hand to turn the light off.


	19. The Empire's Fall

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon and the great MsLefay. Any mistake left is mine.

* * *

**CHAPTER 18 : THE EMPIRE'S FALL**

Harry hadn't slept much that night, worry keeping it at bay. Each movement or noise made him start and check that Draco was sound asleep beside him. But the blonde hadn't left the bed once, worn out by the traumatic events he had gone through.

In the early morning, Harry peered at Draco again, the blonde's eyes twitching under his eyelids, caught in his dreams. Suddenly, they opened wide and Draco exhaled a big breath, looking lost and confused. Harry caressed his cheek with the back of his hand.

"It's alright, you're safe. You're with me, at the River," he said in a soft voice.

The blonde blinked, then turned to him. His body seemed to relax under Harry's gaze, then his eyes scanned the rest of the room. His shoulders slowly loosened up but his movements were a bit self-conscious, as though there was still a discomfort. He stretched and put his hands over his face. Harry didn't know how to act. Should he console him, encourage him to get up, talk again about what had happened? He settled for a kiss on Draco's chest, keeping his lips pressed against his skin for a long moment, his hand resting on the hard flank. It was worth all the words, and it was the best way to make Draco understand he was there. He felt fingers in his hairs and closed his eyes, filled with relief and joy.

Harry looked up and found grey eyes riveted on him. He lifted his hand to sweep way the few strands that were obstructing the haunted stare.

" Whatever happens, I'll always be there for you," he said.

Draco stared at him, eyes so disembodied it was as though someone had stolen the flame from them, and Harry feared he would be forever marked.

"I must speak to him," Draco said, his voice hoarse.

Lucius of course.

Harry nodded. He rested another kiss on Draco's shoulder and lifted the sheets. He looked out the window, the grey sky announcing a morrow day, then got up heavily and quietly walked to the bathroom. He didn't want to disturb Draco or be tactless. The repentant man he had seen yesterday was someone he'd never been confronted with. He didn't know how this night of sleep had affected Draco. Would he regain his senses and put on the impassive act again or would he confront his father and leave?

In the bathroom, he found Draco's shirt on the floor, the dried blood stains leaving almost no white spots on the fabric. He picked it up with two fingers, pulling it away from him, and opened the trashcan with his foot to drop the dirty shirt in it. After a hesitation, he took the rest of the clothes scattered on the floor and threw them away along with it. He then went to the shower and washed away the last red traces on the white enamel. The room was clean now. No more sign of their passage.

When he came back in the room, the bed was completely undone, the spot where Draco had slept empty. Harry sighed toand leaned against the wall. That could be it… That could be the end of the Organization, a new beginning. It was Draco's call. Harry scratched his arm nervously and shambled to the bed. He pulled the sheets up straight and tucked them tightly down the side of the mattress before pulling up the comforter. He smoothed the fabric down and sat on the bed, waiting anxiously for Draco's return.

It was only twenty minutes later that Draco reappeared. He had obviously slipped on his clothes hastily, his shirt tails out of his pants, the cuffs unlinked and the usual belt missing.

Harry noticed the tension in his features and a hardness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Have you spoken to Lucius ?"

Draco didn't look at him. Instead, he stepped forward opened a drawer, picked up a little black box and put it down noisily on the commode. He took out the silver cuff links inside and put them on with sharp gestures. In his position, Harry could see the stiffness in his shoulders and neck. The question was still hanging in the air, and Harry didn't dare voice it again, waiting for a reaction. Draco took his tie, looped it around his neck and moved in front of the mirror to fasten it. Harry observed the blonde's reflection: the cold face, the tight jaw. The silence had stretched on for too long.

"What did he say?" he asked.

Draco pulled on his sleeves and cracked his neck left and right. He answered in a far voice:

"What did he tell me? What did he tell me…"

His voice faded away, then he resumed, emotionless, "He told me I was weak, that I would never be a leader worthy of the name, that I needed to toughen up. That I fell short of his expectations."

Draco's tone was deceptive. Harry could see his nerves were jangling, his body language betrayed him. It was easy to imagine the reproaches Lucius had thrown at his face: Draco was too sensitive and weak. Nice way to demean him and reverse the roles. Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that Lucius was a sick manipulative bastard, no. Draco had simply misunderstood what his new responsibilities required.

_Bullshit!_

Harry knew well where their discussion had led to. He completed Draco's words with a grin, "That I was a bad influence… "

Draco caught his gaze in the mirror with a glint of uncertainty, both shameful and thoughtful. Was he really considering Lucius' warning? No, he wouldn't…

"I think he mentioned it, yes," Draco answered without further details.

Draco sighed and moved to the window, now clearly agitated.

"He said I was free to go, that this association was a mistake …" He sniggered and started to pace back and forth "Condescending fuck..."

Harry felt dizzy just looking at him, so he finally moved toward him and took his arm to calm him down.

"Don't take his words to heart. You know him, he's just trying to win you back."

Draco's eyes were glazed. Harry could sense he was only half listening to him.

"I know," he said. "Only, I always thought nothing could bring me down, and here I am, whining like a little girl."

Harry frowned and riled :

"Of course and for good reasons ! You witnessed a bloody butchery, he forced you to take part in that massacre!"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Harry, I kill. That's what I do, that's who I am…"

Harry shook his head. No, Draco wasn't a heartless killing machine.

"… and this time, I couldn't."

Harry sighed. Draco was so used to blindly killing, so used to following this comfortable path with no embarrassment, leaving a trail of corpses behind, that this breakdown felt like a failure to him, an anomaly. And that was how, in a few minutes, Lucius had succeeding in making Draco doubt himself and his reaction.

Draco's forehead creased and he added with a bitter smile, "I called MacNair to explain the situation and have a discussion with the group. I took the opportunity to tell that prick what I thought about him, and trust me, he won't trouble you anymore."

Harry barely smiled to that. His problems with MacNair felt so far away now.

"After poor apologies, he told me he wasn't sure when he would be back, that there was too much going on in Belfast. He didn't get why I was so upset about the damn incident. For him, it was just a cleanup, like any other one… he didn't see what the problem was."

He ran his tongue over his lips and shrugged in an air of defeat.

"They don't even listen to me anymore... It's over, I've lost all authority."

Draco sagged on the edge of the bed. Harry who had listened to him quietly, came to kneel before him. He rested his hands on Draco's knees and raised his big green eyes to him.

"Draco, you need to put a stop to this," he said in a poised tone, trying to convince him."Don't you see it's destroying you? We were wrong to come here. Now you know Lucius hasn't changed, so let's get this over with."

Draco was watching him attentively, so Harry continued, his tone full of enthusiasm now, "Lucius told you you were free to go, then let's just do that !" Draco's eyes fell to the ground and Harry had to lower his head to try to get a glimpse at them. "Let's leave! You don't need him, you don't need all that! Let's go!"

Harry stared at him hopefully but the blonde suddenly got up with a snarl. Taken aback, Harry winced and found himself seated on his heels. With an exaggerated gesture of the hand, Draco yelled, "You too, you're going to tell me what I should do or not ! Everyone's giving me orders now. When did I lose your respect, huh?"

Harry turned to stare at the head of the bed, disappointed. Draco was pestering behind him and Harry listened to his rampage without a word.

"When did this fucking situation escape my control? You have no rights over me! No one has!"

He stopped his stalling and stood next to the bed, Harry avoiding his eyes. He knew Draco was just venting out his anger, that he needed to let it out, but that was no reason to say amen to his words.

"I'm my own man," Draco stressed, tapping his index on his chest." I don't need you or anyone to tell me what to do. I make my own decisions."

"Draco," Harry muttered, praying for him to stop.

But the blonde was too far gone.

"No, I need some fresh air."

Then he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Harry searched all the meeting rooms and the offices, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. He met Zabini on his way, the man strolling around the corridors, his hands in his pockets.

"You're looking for Draco, I bet." Harry didn't need to confirm. "He's upstairs, on the rooftop."

Harry was already on his way when Zabini hailed him from behind.

"Eh, he needs a break. Be indulgent, okay. You're not from the same world, remember?" he said, his tone half-serious.

Harry kept walking and muttered between his teeth, not particularly addressing Zabini, "Yeah, well I'm fed up hearing that. The world is the same for everyone. It's you who have shit in your eyes."

Harry opened the roof's door, the wind battling his hair. The view opened on a disenchanted horizon; grey clouds up in the sky, sad buildings and houses down below.

Draco was there, next to the edge, his arms grounded on the parapet, his back tense. An absurd image crossed Harry's mind: Draco jumping off the roof. It was so far removed from him, this man so strong, so… hardened. Last night, he had melted down, and now, his armour was already back in place. And Harry knew it would be hard to break. But he had managed to slip through the chinks and enter Draco's heart, of that he was sure, and the Berlin's episode had only cracked this prison of steel a little more.

Draco's blond strands quivered in the cold wind and he raised his voice without turning, "I can't quit. Not yet... I need to assess the situation, to figure out what I want... my future."

Those were not the words Harry had expected. He wanted to shake Draco up. The horror that had occurred, his state yesterday. How could he have forgotten that already? Was he so inconsistent, so unsure of his emotions?

"I know you want to help me, but I need to think."

Harry took a deep breath, then held his chin up and firmly stated, "Ok. I understand."

He was ready to wait for Draco to open his eyes and realize what was good for him.

Draco finally turned to him. Their eyes met, intense, full of unspoken emotions.

"Really," Harry continued, taking a step closer. "I'm there for you. I told you that, and I'll keep my word." Another step forward. "I'm with you."

There was no more doubt in his mind that Draco was his future. So, no matter McCarthy or Lucius, he had the intimate conviction that with this love in his heart, he would overcome all the obstacles. He would find a solution about Remus, he would make up with Ron and the Wealseys. Unrealistic? Maybe, but nothing seemed impossible with this man by his side.

He closed the distance between them and came closer to the edge, the city spreading at their feet. He looked up at Draco then and firmly grasped his nape to lower his head. He planted a kiss on his lips and Draco was fast to react, capturing the brunet's face between his hands, the kiss now passionate, Draco's bewitching taste on his tongue.

For a few seconds, there were no more thoughts, no more doubts. They were on top of the world. And no one could stop them now.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**September 25, 2004**

At the X-Stacy, Harry and Draco were seated at a table, face to face, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears and sipping drinks. The club was full that Saturday night, clients from all sides, not so many associates and business prospects around for once. Harry appreciated those nights where he could sit back and enjoy the show without having to play a role and curry favour at each table.

Draco had almost completely ceased his activities at the Organization. Lucius had wisely let him keep his distance, well aware that no pressure or coercion would work with Draco. He said he trusted his son's decision, but Harry knew the old man wouldn't let go that easily. Whatever happened, Harry would stand by Draco. But for now, he was simply enjoying the time they spent with each other.

Draco's cell phone suddenly vibrated. The blonde put his hand against his ear and listened but the music was too loud and the call seemed important. He made a sign at Harry and headed to the backroom to find a quiet spot. Harry quickly turned his attention back to the show. He gave a glance around the room. Clients looked like they were having a good time. He turned around to the glass wall to check if everything was fine when he noticed a little commotion on the other side. The security guys sprung into action and Harry watched them separate six boys. But all of a sudden, one of the troublemakers slipped from the bouncer's hold and attacked another boy. The fight started again and the two gangs redoubled their energy, out of control. The two bouncers were quickly overwhelmed by the half-dozen boys.

Harry decided to step in. He got up, called out to Karl, one of the security managers, and crossed the airlock passage leading to the other room with him. The change of beat was violent, the music pulsing and the crowd moving wildly. They both pushed their way through the dancers and finally faced the group. Karl, always on the go, grabbed one of the punks and pulled him out of the fight. The kidswere were throwing insults at each other but Harry would have none of it. He took on his role of manager and shot out, "If you want to set foot in here again, you'd better stop this now! I won't allow anyone to besmirch my establishment, is that clear?"

The X-Stacy was the latest fashionable club and being excluded from it was unthinkable. The threat was sufficient and the boys progressively calmed down, puffing and muttering a few insults again.

"That's it, the party's over for tonight. Ted, Harper," Harry called, implicitly ordering the bouncers to escort the agitators out.

The punks left the room and Harry stayed with Karl in the middle of the dance floor, the dancers quickly closing the circle. Harry gestured the DJ to raise the sound. The music thumped louder than before, the bass at maximum power. The dancers shouted, carried away by the techno beat. Harry checked around him to see if everything was back to normal while Karl gave his instructions to his team, his hand on his ear :

"Jon, you've got six guys coming to you. Make sure they…"

His words blurred with the music as Harry turned his attention toward the other side of the glass wall. He caught sight of Draco behind it. The blonde was talking to Mabelle next to the stage and seemed rather agitated. The diva shook her head and Draco searched for something around him. His strange attitude indicated no good.

" No, take their names…" continued Karl in his earpiece.

Harry stayed focused on Draco's silhouette now moving toward Tony, the barman. They talked heatedly and the barman suddenly stopped all movement. He walked round the bar and hurried to the elevator. Harry frowned and took a step forward, his anxiety building up amongst all this agitation.

Not far from Draco, Harper met Tony in front of the elevator's doors. Brief words were exchanged and Harry watched Harper's face freeze and harden. The bouncer touched his ear and said something. Harry turned his head right off toward Karl.

"What the…" he whispered.

Karl turned very pale and Harry's heart began to hammer against his chest. He looked through the glass wall again. Harper was talking, scanning the whole room. His lips were moving wide as though he were shouting. The girls stopped their dance on stage and all the clients turned their heads toward the man.

Panic invaded Harry. Something serious was happening.

"We have to evacuate the club."

It was Karl's voice. It took a few seconds before Harry realized what he just said.

"What?"

"There is a potential threat."

Harry turned his stare to the wall and saw clients gesticulating in the other room, a few looking around with confusion. Before Karl could add another word, people stopped dancing around them and raised their voices, feeling something was going on.

"What threat?" Harry asked, dazed.

_BAAAAAAM !_

A huge explosion.

Harry instinctively ducked. All the people in the room outright huddled up and cried out in fear. The shock had been so great the room had vibrated under the explosion. And that was when everything went haywire.

The crowd, panicked, rushed to the airlock passage to get out, creating a terrible mess, people pushing and screaming. The music ceased suddenly, letting the fearful voices fill the room. At the other side of the wall, the evacuation was more organized: Harper was controlling the flow of clients who were heading toward the stairs, with the help of Ted who had just joined him. But the calm didn't last: a small group began to push the line to get out more quickly. The movement provoked a little rebellion and the clients at the back started to flock and push harder.

Harry looked all around, overwhelmed by the situation. Everything had happened in a few seconds.

Like a big wave, the crowd had gathered in front of the airlock, leaving half of the room empty. Harry stood there alone, Karl not far away. But the opening was soon full and people were falling over each other. Others headed to the emergency exit on the annex wall, but they couldn't open it. The doors were blocked.

Karl yelled, "CALM DOWN, CALM DOWN! DON'T PUSH! WE'RE ALL GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE QUIETLY!"

The crowd was far from appeased but the flow slowed down nonetheless. Karl headed to the emergency exit to try and force it open when…

_BAAAAAM !_

A second explosion resounded.

A big block of plaster fell from the ceiling and came crashing down in the middle of the dance floor. People fell off the staircase in the other room, and hell broke loose in the club.

The crowd turned hysteric again. The clients took the airlock passage by storm, but they couldn't get out, crushed against the walls. People fell on the ground, others grabbing and pushing at each other. It was a scramble.

Harry snapped out of his stupor and went into action. He ran and crouched down to help the people lying on the ground, about to be trampled.

On the other side of the wall, the clients were still laboring over the main staircase. This emergency exit seemed also obstructed. Harper was desperately trying to open it, helped by a raging crowd, but to no avail. Karl quickly posted himself in front of the elevator's doors to block it. The electrical system might be damaged, and it was too dangerous to use it. But the clients were deaf to his warnings and violently pushed him to slip inside the cabin. Soon, an entire group followed them in but the overcrowded cabin doors couldn't close. People were pushing forward and back, frantic.

Harry got up and stayed speechless before this nightmare. He couldn't even think about escaping. He was searching for Draco with his eyes but the blonde was nowhere to be seen. As for Karl, he was overwhelmed among the crowd, trying to organize the movement but unable to do so. The situation was out of control.

Things took a turn for the worst when the lights started to crackle and flicker, some of them going off at once. Panic reached the next level: screams increased and it was all but an endless commotion.

Harry watched the engorged airlock, some people managing to pass through to reach the other room, and then flames appeared upstairs, near the maintenance room. The fire extinguishers were behind the emergency doors. No way to reach them. The fire was going to spread fast, and if another blast happened, there would be no hope left.

Harry was rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the general frenzy. Distant and painful memories plagued his mind as he watched the extent of the damage, people hurt, in tears or in a panicked frenzy.

Where was Mabelle, the girls, Tony? Where was Draco?

_Draco._

An odd feeling gripped Harry's stomach. It was too late, he wouldn't make it.

He was behind the crowd, alone in the emptiness left by the flee wave.

Then suddenly, he made out the blonde head on the other side. His eyes instantly lit up and his mouth opened, the name of his man on the tip of his tongue. As though he had heard Harry's silent plea, Draco turned. Their eyes met and Harry smiled, a strange vision in this chaos. Then, as if in a trance, he moved slowly forward, the hysteria next to him fading away, out of focus: there was only Draco and him. Harry kept walking to reach the blonde, almost forgetting about the wall separating them until his hands met the hard glass. Draco ran up in front of him, the glass curtain the only barrier between them.

They were so close. If it weren't for this damn wall…

Draco put his hands on the glass in turn and peered at Harry, his face frightened. They stared intensely at each other, eye to eye, the glass creating a light halo around their faces. Harry, his mouth half-opened, was unable to react, a lump in his throat. The moment suspended for a second, then Draco tightened his fists on the translucent wall and hit it hard, the need to break the glass to join Harry. Draco gave another blow, then a second one, his face hardening. Harry could barely feel the vibrations under his hands. Draco hit again but saw that the task was impossible. He lowered his hand, his chest heaving hard. He looked left and right, then Harry saw his lips move, but of course he couldn't hear anything. He shook his head, his fingers shriveled up on the wall, when Draco turned to walk away.

Harry took a breath and pressed his hand harder on the wall, his eyes riveted on the blonde. Draco moved away and bent over to pick something up. He turned again, a heavy chair in hands. His arms rose and he moved toward the wall with strong steps. Harry backed away immediately and the chair fell hard on the glass. A dull sound. The wall stayed intact but Draco threw the chair with more force, hitting again and again, the blows quicker and quicker, his face distraught and grimacing. The blows became more desperate and Harry started shaking. Not a crack, nothing. The wall wouldn't give. All these attempts were futile. Harry knew it, Draco knew it.

Suddenly, Harry felt this terrible fear he would never feel Draco's skin against him.

Would fate be this cruel? Let them spend their last moments here, without being able to talk, feel and touch each other?

Draco was hammering on the wall in vain. He was in the middle of the endeavour, his muscles tense, ready to strike again, when Harry put his hand on the wall to stop him, a heart-rending look on his face. Draco stopped then, the chair suspended above his head, and his arms slackened. He dropped the chair and leaned against the wall again, his hand propped against the glass. His mouth twisted as emotion washed over him. They might not be able to talk but their eyes were saying it all.

Harry covered Draco's hand with his, the cold glass against his palm, and his eyes started to glaze over. Draco saw the change in him and hit again to catch his attention. He shook his head, eyes hard and determined. Don't give up, his stare said. Draco spoke again. His lips were moving fast and wide, in the hope Harry could hear him or perhaps he was only getting worked up.

Harry looked over his shoulder to discover volutes of smoke escaping from the hole in the ceiling, and when he turned back to Draco, he noticed flames winning the room behind him too. The fire was progressing rapidly.

Draco needed to get out now to save his skin. The stairs were not far behind the blonde. He could make it.

Harry said "Get out", articulating slowly first, then a second time, louder, then louder again. "GET OUT !" he shot one last time.

Draco cast him a fierce look and shook his head. Harry frowned and pleaded with his eyes, but Draco stood his ground. Draco gestured for him toward the airlock. Harry didn't react but Draco insisted again. Harry had to try his luck. He looked at Draco and tightened his lips, determination growing on his face. He nodded, let his hand slide off the wall and cast a last look to his lover before reaching the mad crowd in front of the airlock. Wherever he looked, there was no possible opening.

"Ok, ok, think."

He scanned the room until his eyes stopped at the washroom's door.

_Of course!_

Harry ran to find Karl, the man, his usual professional self, trying to calm the people around. He pulled his arm and showed him the door. He turned a last time to Draco who seemed to encourage him with his eyes, then said, filled with hope, "We could try to get out by the washroom's window. We have to try."

Karl nodded and with Harry, they tried to convince the people around to follow them.

Harry glanced at the wall, relieved to see that Draco had finally left, then he ran to the washroom to look inside. Three people were already there. One of them, a young skinny girl, barely eighteen, was twisting out of the high window. It seemed it wasn't the first time she had tried that. Her arms shook as she got her leg inside again.

"No, I can't do it! There's nothing to hang to! We'll get smashed against concrete !" she cried out with a shaking voice.

Devastated, she slowly lowered herself and hopped down to rush to her friends, another girl with bracelets all over her arms and a pale boy, about the same age as her. The boy took her in his arms and said, "Come on, it will be fine… I'll try and you follow me, okay?"

But the girl shook her head, tears in her eyes.

"We'll die if we don't…" the boy insisted.

He hadn't finished his phrase when Harry put his foot on the trashcan and hauled himself up against the wall. His balance was unstable but he managed to pass one leg through the window. The rush of wind surprised him, contrasting with the rising heat inside, and he passed his other leg over, now seated on the window's ledge.

He looked down. Indeed, there was nothing to break his fall, nothing that might help him getting down. He bent his head and made out the fire escape on the other side of the building. Unfortunately, it was out of reach. He looked then at the cornice. It was thin, yes, but it might be sufficient to stand on his tiptoes. He could try to hug the wall and reach the corner. Did he really havea choice anyway? The place would soon disappear into flames.

He turned inside again and stated to the wide-eyed group, "I'll go first and you'll follow me, alright?"

He gathered his courage, drew in a deep breath and let himself slide slowly, gripping the ledge tightly. Harry fumbled with his legs, searching for the cornice with shaky legs. Once he did, he moved cautiously, his hands letting go of the ledge to grip the façade's moldings. He heard the girls scream inside, then the stone crumbled under his feet, making him freeze and look down. The ground seemed so far from him. Vertigo overtook him and Harry lifted his eyes immediately. He used to be fearless about heights, flying all the time, but there was no safety net now. Nothing would save him here.

He got a grip on himself and moved forward with little side steps, getting closer to the other side. The girl inside the washroom peeked her head out to watch his progression with frightened eyes. Harry kept moving, the wind in his ear and his heart beating wildly. It seemed he had only covered two meters.

Suddenly, his foot stumbled against a friable part and he lost his grip. His breath cut out but he caught himself by a hair's breadth, planting his fingers on the wall's cracks and leaning close. He put his forehead against the cold stone and closed his eyes, trying to calm down his breathing.

_You can do it. You've gotten out of far worse situations. Come on! Draco must be waiting for you down there._

He gulped and continued, more resolute than ever, his steps careful but steady. Finally, he arrived at the angle, the steel bars of the fire escape within reach. He hesitated before letting his hand off the wall then launched it onto the railing. His legs felt paralyzed but he managed to throw one onto the bar. He pulled himself clumsily up then stepped over the railing, his body stiff.

_That's it!_

He let out his breath, a high-pitched cry coming from his mouth. He smiled but his respite was brief. By the window next to him, he could see the flames licking the walls. He bent over to look at the girl who had yet to go out and encouraged her, "Come on, it's easy! Don't be scared!"

The girl didn't seem reassured but she finally took the plunge and lowered herself onto the cornice, but the poor girl was frozen. Harry bent forward and shouted, "Don't think okay, it's just a few steps. And I'm right here! You can do it!"

The girl turned her eyes to him, her cheek stuck to the wall. Harry gave her a comforting smile and it seemed to do the trick. She moved hesitantly at first, then more and more assuredly. And she proved to be quite dexterous, moving faster than Harry had. Harry took her in his arms to help her climb over the ramp. The girl's boyfriend followed behind her, and Harry could already see another head at the window. They were getting out one after the other. Now at peace, Harry began his descent, noisily walking down the rusty fire escape.

He could see onlookers gathered around the club's entrance, watching the chaos. The crowd was swelling, a few survivors gathered around, their faces darkened by the smoke, some of them hurt, the others mostly shocked.

When Harry arrived down below he received a few pats on the back and quite a few curious looks. He made his way to the club's entrance, extricating himself from the people massed in the front. He could hear the fire brigade siren on the distance. Dizzy with the entire ruckus, he couldn't fix his eyes anywhere. His head was starting to swirl with all those sad faces, the wails and the smoke. He didn't recognize anyone, but there were so many people moving around… Then, he found himself imprisoned by a pair of arms. He stayed inert a moment, too stunned to comprehend what was happening, but he slowly recognized the familiar embrace. All the stress and the fear left his body and he let himself sink against the firm torso. He covered Draco's hand with his and turned to hug him back, his arms tight around his lover as though he would never let go of him.

Draco's heavy breaths tickled his ear and it was the most glorious sensation. They said nothing, overwhelmed by the pleasure of being reunited, safe and sound.

They kissed, letting go of the fear and the frustration, their bodies attempting to melt with each other. Harry felt a tear fall on his cheek but it wasn't his; it was Draco, silently crying in his arms. And what a sensation, so unexpected and touching. They interrupted the kiss and joined their foreheads, their eyes peering into each other's.

"You're here," Draco murmured with a hoarse voice.

" Hm, always," answered Harry, a smile curling his lips.

Draco caressed his cheek with his thumb, looking at him with wonder, but then a scream tore itself from the crowd.

"Noo! Noooo!"

A woman was running to the doors, the security guys preventing her from entering. Draco and Harry's faces turned somber again.

"Goyle called me…" the blonde started but Harry suddenly gasped and snapped his head up.

"Mabelle, the girls?" he said in a panic.

Draco reassured him, his arm looped around his waist, "She's okay, I saw her getting out… A few dancers were with her but there's still a lot of people inside…"

He rubbed his forehead with his hand and stepped away from Harry to contemplate the mayhem around them. Harry turned his head too, taking in the inferno before his eyes. There were people rushing outside with tearing eyes, black smoke everywhere, flames cracking and windows exploding under the rising temperature. A heat blur surrounded the club and a few charred posters flew off the facade.

Harry turned to the firemen now on the premises, then suddenly, he recognized a figure in the crowd: Mabelle. She was seated on the sidewalk with a few girls, her damaged wig in her hands. Harry pressed Draco's arm and left him hastily to meet the diva. With her short hair and the traces of smoke on her face, Mabelle was worse for wear. Harry softly put his hand on her shoulder. She lifted her eyes and offered him a tired smile.

"Boss."

Harry sadly smiled in turn.

"I think it's my fault," she said, smoothing her wig's artificial hair. Harry frowned. "I fired up the crowd tonight, I just didn't expect it to get out of hand like that!"

Harry snorted but the situation was so distressing. The club was going up in flames and who knew the number of victims they would have to deplore.

"I can't believe it… I should have done more… We checked all the security -"

Mabelle stopped him, "Don't start blaming yourself. We don't know how what happened."

Draco reappeared at his moment, a dark expression on his face. Harry questioned him with his eyes.

"Listen, I've got to go," Draco said.

"What? Why?"

He knew Draco was about to announce something terrible.

"Goyle's informed me that explosives devices had destroyed the Fox and a part of the Biloxie..."

Harry's mouth opened with horror. It had all been planned…

Draco's face hardened and he added with a dry tone, "You wait here for the ambulance, ok?"

He was about to leave but Harry stopped him.

"What? No! Where are you going?" he asked, disconcerted.

But Draco had his mind set. He took him by the shoulders and repeated, "Wait here."

Harry opened his mouth to intercede again but Draco had already left, clearing his path out of the crowd. Harry's eyes didn't leave him and he bit his lips, but someone gripped his shoulder: Tony.

"Shit, I'm glad you're here! What the hell…"

Harry briefly glanced at him, too occupied to stalk Draco, the latter heading to his Chevrolet. He couldn't stay there and do nothing.

Behind them, men in bright yellow suits jumped out of the big red fire engine, quickly pulling out the hoses and clearing their way. Harry took Tony's arm and mumbled, "Uh… Me too, me too... Listen, I… I've got to go. The firemen are here, police will arrive any minute… Can you deal with them…"

"What?"

Harry kept turning to the Chevrolet. Then Draco climbed in the car and Harry didn't have a minute to lose.

"I can't now… I've got to-"

"Go," Mabelle cut in. "You know I love men in uniforms. I'll handle them."

Harry thanked her with a nod and ran off. He avoided the mass gathered before the building to reach Draco's car, but it drove off right before his eyes. Harry immediately spotted a cab and jumped before it to stop the car. He climbed in and ordered the driver to follow the Chevrolet.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Draco had been fast and the taxi driver had lost him at a turn, but Harry had easily recognized the way. A few minutes later, the cab pulled over. Harry got out and spotted the Chevrolet in front of the River building.

The elevator's doors opened and Harry could already hear the ruckus coming from one of the rooms. He walked to Lucius' office : the door was open. No doubt Draco had stormed in and outright attacked Lucius.

"Don't take me for an arse! Explosives! You thought I wouldn't recognize your trade mark! You're fucking insane!"

Lucius' voice was calmer but he had raised it to make himself heard.

"You honestly think that I am mad enough to destroy what I've just built? I'm as shocked as you are! These are my investments, my business! What interest would I find in ruining it? Tell me?"

"You are deranged, you don't need another motive…. Just more notches on your belt!"

"Draco, I thought we finally understood each other."

"Never! I don't understand your vision nor your ways. You're going to end up like before, alone, abandoned by all."

He sounded bitter, his voice broken.

Harry moved closer to the door. He could see Draco now. He was standing extremely close to Lucius, his body hunched over him as if ready to launch at him. Draco suddenly grabbed the back of Lucius' wheelchair, trapping his father between his arms, and spat at him, "You don't care about anyone? Not me, not Harry…"

"Draco…" Lucius protested, his son's eyes piercing his.

"… the people who work for you..."

"Draco! That's enough! I have nothing to do with this."

"You could have killed us!"

Enraged, Draco shook his chair, and his father's body sagged under the movement, one of his shoes escaping from the footrest. Lucius had never looked so small and helpless.

"It's over! I'm done! I won't stay a minute longer!"

"Draco!" Lucius screamed, his hair in disarray and his skin unnaturally pale.

He looked genuinely devastated.

Harry started when Draco rushed out of the door. He stepped away and the blonde peered at him, breathing hard.

"You coming?" he asked, showing no surprise.

Harry frowned but followed him to the elevator. He didn't dare speak to the blonde's closed face.

They went up to the third floor, Draco still tense and agitated. Harry followed him to Pansy's room. The young girl was seated at the window. When Draco entered, she whipped her head around and cast a deep look at him. Without a word, she hopped off the windowsill, took Draco's outstretched hand and walked out of the room. No word had been needed and Pansy had followed Draco as though she had been expecting this since the beginning.

Harry was walking next to them, their steps steady and determined like an army at war, when the elevator's doors opened before them. Nott and Zabini were about to step out but stopped when they caught sight of the three of them.

Nott, "What the hell's going on ? Lucius came to find us. You're leaving the Organization ? You can't !"

Draco stayed stock still and stared at him harshly.

"Oh yes I can, I don't need Lucius. We were doing fine without him, and we'll do fine again. Are you with me?"

Zabini reacted quickly, "I'm with you, boss."

Draco turned to Nott, but the latter seemed less decided.

"Nott?" Draco said, seeing his hesitation.

The man let out a heavy breath and said in a tone of excuse, "Listen Draco, we're good here. We've never been more powerful or more rich! Hell, they're all eating out of our hands! Did you see how many have joined us! All the new clients! The whole country is at our feet! We're breaking through Europe! You can't let go of this like that!"

"Lucius is stark raving mad!" Draco retorted ferociously, "What he wants is blood. He fucking blew up the club, the -"

"Draco, you don't know that!"

The blonde moved closer to him, eyes narrowed.

"There's been more," he darkly added. "In Berlin, he ordered the massacre of entire families, women, children… The things he must have done behind our backs!"

"I know all this, but it's part of the job," Nott coldly answered.

Draco was dumbstruck.

"What?… Killing kids?"

Nott spoke again with an indifferent voice, "Those were necessary damages… They were witnesses…"

Draco exploded and sent him a punch right in the face. Nott went down, his bloodied nose cradled in his hand. Pansy covered her mouth with her hand, shocked, whereas Harry observed the scene blankly. The rupture wasn't completely unexpected. Nott had always been so detached and venal...

Draco smoothed his hair down and turned to Zabini. Nott and he had always been close, he knew it was a tough decision. But surprisingly, Zabini didn't look upset at all.

"Let's go," he said.

He had rejected Nott much to Draco's profit without an ounce of hesitation. Harry definitely liked the man.

Draco tapped Zabini's back and entered the cabin with the group at his side.

"You're making a huge mistake!" Nott spat out as the doors closed.

Then the insipid music wrapped Harry, Pansy, Zabini and Draco in a tight row inside the elevator. Tension and excitation were palpable.

They were leaving everything behind. Would they go back to the cottage or find a new hideout, unknown to Lucius and his men? There was so much to think about and so much risk too.

They passed by the security downstairs without anyone stopping them. Lucius could have tried to forcibly hold Draco back, but he didn't. It would be no use anyway. When they reached the security room, Draco stopped to knock at the door. One word from Draco and Goyle handed over his badge and walked to his locker.

When they passed through the revolving doors, it was a breath of fresh air. There was not a soul in the street, just a car driving in the distance. They were gathered like old veterans in front of the Chevrolet.

Zabini leaned on the car's hood and lifted his head toward the impressive facade of the building. Pansy turned too, thoughtful. She didn't seem nostalgic though; quite the opposite.

"Shit, we're saying goodbye to this," Zabini laughed, a bit overwhelmed by their abrupt departure.

He sighed and smiled.

"A fresh start, I like that." He looked at Draco who smiled back at him. "Now, you'd better find us something…"

A car slowed down behind them. The window rolled down.

"Watch out!" screamed Goyle behind them, but it was too late.

_Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta!_

The Chevrolet's windows exploded beneath the blast. Zabini's body jolted under the impact, riddled with bullets, blood gushing out from his chest. He collapsed to the ground, eyes empty.

Draco pulled Harry down against the car's doors while Pansy huddled next to them, near the trunk, her hands on her ears, screaming non stop. They had managed to protect themselves, but Draco's eyes were pinned to Zabini's lifeless body lying on the sidewalk.

Goyle, hidden behind a pillar, was the first to react. He brandished his gun at their assailants and shot, but they were heavily armed and the bullets were flying everywhere. He had a hard time protecting himself.

Draco finally came out of his daze. He pulled out the gun fixed to his ankle, checked the cartridge clip then reinserted it.

A motor bike arrived behind the car and the helmeted rider started to shoot in turn. The Chevrolet took the most of the bullets, transformed into a giant colander. Harry couldn't believe what was happening. He was crouched down, knees propped up against him, looking at the blood on the ground and the bullet holes on the River's façade. Inside the building, the security guys were gesticulating uselessly, little inclined to take part in the shootout.

Next to Harry, Draco was ready, but he hesitated before rising, the bullets flying over their heads. Finally, he revealed himself and shot thrice before getting down again. A new blast of bullets hit the car and more chunks of glass fell on their heads. Pansy screamed again and Harry tried to reach her to pull her against him but she was too shocked to move. Draco took a deep breath and rose again. He shot, lowered himself quickly and then re-emerged. Bullets answered each other with astounding rapidity. Goyle and Draco were now shooting in turns and managed to hit the car repeatedly. After another blast, the vehicle drove away fast. The motorcycle followed a second later, the rider shooting blindly behind him, but Goyle drew out his gun again and took his time to aim.

_Bang! Bang!_

Two bullets. The motorcycle skidded and the rider crashed down.

Goyle kept his gun drawn and ran to the body.

Silence came back to the street, the bullet holes still hot, the car's carcass with broken glass all around, a few pieces continuing to fall to the ground. Draco and Harry's erratic breathing and Pansy's soft whine.

Goyle hurried over them with large strides and faced Draco. He hold a badge out.

"Division 8."

The revelation had come as a bolt from the blue. The bombings and now the shootout. The Division had planned these simultaneous attacks and had finally come here to finish the job.

Draco shook his head and peered down incredulously at Zabini's corpse. He crawled toward it, his eyes travelling over the battered body. He slowly put his hand on the open eyes of his former friend and closed them. Draco covered his mouth with his fist, trying to hold in his sobs, but a few spasms travelled his frame.

Harry shakily got up, the glass cracking under the sole of his shoes. He looked at the pieces of wreckage. He looked at Zabini's bloody hand lying there, palm facing up. He looked at Draco all hunched up at his feet. He had his own part of responsibility for this vengeance. He had provoked them with his silence, he had given them the names of the places, and here was the result. McCarthy had decided to take the necessary action and it had been ruthless.

Goyle stared down at Harry but the brunet didn't dare to look him in the eye.

When he saw Pansy still prostrated, he numbly moved toward her. He bent over her and ran a hand through her hair.

"It's over Pansy" he whispered, his voice breaking.

But she kept moaning, her body shivering.

Harry wiped his nose and lifted her up cautiously. Her eyes were filled with tears. He took her by the shoulders and brought her closer to the sad group.

"Drrracoooo…. " she called, hugging herself. Her voice so frail.

Harry lowered his eyes to make sure Pansy could walk without help. He stopped suddenly in his tracks. Her hand was covered with blood.

Draco turned at this moment, and his eyes fell on the same horrific vision: a dark stain was spreading across the girl's stomach. She croaked "Draco" in a breath and fell on the floor, livid.

Draco's face distorted with pain and desperation and he threw himself toward her, half-lying on the ground. He took her head between his hands and moved closer to cradle her in his arms, wailing like a wounded animal, tears now falling freely on his cheek.

Harry couldn't breathe anymore. It was a nightmare. Surely, it wasn't happening.

"No, no, no" he said, backing away.

His body bumped against the car and his legs gave way beneath him. He found himself slumped on the ground. Goyle rushed inside the River and a moment later, the security men finally came out to encircle them. They were way too late and their shouts sounded muffled to Harry's ears. They encircled the car, gesticulating around. In the middle of this agitation, Draco buried his head on Pansy's shoulder, rocking back and forth, the girl resting in his arms as in a Pietà.

* * *

**A/N:** Please, please, don't kill me! It was painful for me too, but I had to do it!


	20. The End

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon and the great MsLefay. Any mistake left is mine.

* * *

**CHAPTER 19 : THE END**

**September 28, 2004**

A flash of lightning lit up Draco's face. His expression was blank and once the darkness fell again, it renderedhim pale and deathlike. A rumble and the sound of the rain pouring outside. The somber weather reflected life inside the house. Harry's eyes were riveted to the fallen blonde, worry marring his features. He had given up the thought of consoling his lover. Draco was wallowing in sorrow and remorse. Seated on the couch, they were so silent that they seemed to be part of the furniture. Draco was slumped against the cushions, Harry nestled in the corner, next to him.

To Harry's surprise, Draco had decided to go back to the Reading property. The house had been renovated since their last visit, but behind the fresh paint and the brand new windows, death still hung in the air; Harry could feel it coating the walls. In addition to Ellis' murderous ambush, the estate was deeply linked to Lucius and it was an ill omen. What was Draco trying to prove by raking up the past? Lucius might turn up at any moment and Harry didn't like that at all. He didn't feel safe anymore.

How radically everything had changed. They, who had wished a new beginning, had been struck the moment they'd freed themselves. As if they were being punished for it, as if an entity up there was trying to tell them something. Was it a sort of warning? A divine sign? Harry and Draco had gotten caught up in the game and they had paid the price. They should have left before. Well before.

At least, Matthew and his staff brought a bit of life in this joyless time. They spared no effort to satisfy "the young master".

But it was in vain. Draco was inconsolable. Harry had tried his best to shake him out of his lethargy, but he was struggling himself not to break down. How could he look Draco in the eye and comfort him when he was crumbling under the weight of his own guilt? Harry needed to confide, to free his conscience, but he had no one to talk to here. He was all alone.

Even when Draco was in the same room as him, he wasn't really there. He stayed on the living room's couch or in his room, lost in thoughts. Was he replaying the deadly scene in his head, wondering how it all could have been avoided? Of course he was. The only people he trusted and cared about had been taken away from him. Harry was there for him, but he was a liar. Worse, a traitor. There was no way out. How long could they go on like this?

Three days had passed since the drama, but Draco spoke as if he were still in shock, his words bitter and broken. A monologue, really.

"I lost everything… Zabini, Pansy…" Draco's lips thinned and he rubbed his forehead before shifting on the couch. "Nott, the Elders, the whole Organization. Even my fucking father…"

He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling.

"I didn't think…" He interrupted himself, running a finger on his lips, pensive and nervous. "It shouldn't have happened…"

"It's not your fault," Harry whispered, coyly. "You made the right decision." It was the hundredth time he had repeated the same words, but as usual, they were ineffective. It was the truth, but it was the sort of thing that couldn't enter his consciousness; Draco needed someone to blame, a culprit. Division 8 of course, and this had Harry biting his lip so hard he tasted blood**.** It had been his camp, his fault. He might have followed Draco in the end, but he had been McCarthy's pawn since the beginning.

Draco mostly blamed himself. He was supposed to be the leader, and he hadn't been able to protect his gang. He kept repeating that Zabini and Pansy had counted on him and that he had let them down. In a few months, he had lost so many men. It put everything in question once more.

Harry said the only thing that could cheer him up, the only ray of hope they had, "Pansy will make it, you'll see."

The young girl had been hauled into a clinic by a hysteric Draco, ill prepared to admit that she was dead. Truthfully though, it had been 's state was critical, and the doctors were still unable to affirm her chances of recovery.

Harry fiddled with his fingers and looked at Draco again.

"We should be at the clinic," he said softly.

Harry didn't want to criticize Draco, he was feeling down enough, but he didn't understand why he refused to go and see Pansy. She was still alive. It was something to hang on to.

Draco shook his head. "It would be unwise to linger around there. I've made enough mistakes as it is."

"But just a few minutes…"

"No, there's nothing to do anyway. You think she's going to miraculously wake up or something?"

He sounded so bitter, closing in on himself, and Harry wanted to help him so much.

"They say people in a coma can sometimes hear when we talk to them… it helps them. Pansy would be happy -"

"It's bullshit," Draco bit out.

Harry sighed. It was hopeless. So he did the only thing he could: he leaned over Draco and kissed him to remove the venom from his mouth. The blonde resisted slightly, pulling away and groaning, but Harry's patience and sweetness got the better of him and he finally let go. Draco put his hand against the slim torso and closed his eyes. Pain, loneliness. Harry let his eyes wander across the pale face. The blonde looked so old. Damaged. Harry lightly stroked his neck and the thin hair on his nape, trying to soothe the tensions in him.

In these tender moments, Harry realized how much Draco had lacked affection. He had grown up in a cold and dark environment, filled with death and fear. With the Organization, he had unconsciously followed on this path of dread and destruction. Between his father's madness and the death of his mother - a subject he vehemently refused to talk about - Draco had seen his family disintegrate before his eyes. Harry had learnt from Snape himself that Narcissa had committed suicide, unable, as so many were, to bear a world without magic. Harry knew what the loss of his parents represented, it was a void that would never again be filled. Yes, but during his teenage years, Harry had been surrounded by love: the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Hagrid and others, people that genuinely cared for him. He had found a new family. The same couldn't be said for Draco who had only known henchmen and employees. His only true friends were not there anymore.

They were both as lonely as each other, except now, they_ had_ each other.

A sad smile drew itself on Harry's lips as he murmured, "I'm here."

Draco curled up in his arms, Harry welcoming him gladly, and the blonde finally fellinto a shallow sleep.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The day went by in a monastic atmosphere. Draco kept meditating in silence and no one was to disturb him. Matthew and his staff were quietly bustling about, rendering themselves invisible. Harry was deep in his thoughts too, brooding over the recent events. Perhaps he should have surrendered to McCarthy and givenhim what he wanted… But in the end, Draco would have fallen. Manifestly, the Division had no scruples or finesse: they charged right in. Harry could hardly believe they had gone that far. What differentiated them from the Organization? They had become terrorists on the same counts as Lucius and his clique. And for what? To dismantle the group? It was beyond understanding. In the past, their methods had never been as drastic and inhuman. What could have madethem go off the rails? The Organization was a serious threat, but not enough to excuse such actions.

Harry stirred all these questions in his head, but no answers were forthcoming. A wide yawn escaped his mouth, signaling it was time to go to bed.

When he came out of the bathroom that night, he found the blonde lying in a fetalposition on the bed, only grey boxer briefs for pajamas**, **his hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. Harry climbed beside him in his most simple apparel and embraced him, covering his body, his torso against Draco's back. They naturally found the same position they had taken after the traumatic episode in Berlin.

Draco turned over and faced him. The move was unexpected. Harry loosened his hold and hesitantly pulled away. He was always cautious now, his eyes both tender and sad. He didn't want to do or say the wrong thing. The blonde's expression hinted that he knew exactly what Harry felt. He smoothed down Harry's hair, his penetrating look unwavering, then he closed the distance between them and kissed Harry lightly. A second kiss came,then a third, deeper. The desire grew, their hands more daring, their bodies closer and closer. The next kiss announced the primitive base desire of the flesh, the desperate want to be whole again.

"I need you, Harry." Draco whispered on his skin. "I need to be inside you… There's only you…Only you…"

In the darkness, they caressed each other, touching and kissing as if there were no tomorrow. Draco rolled over Harry, pinning him to the bed.

Draco was there, his look so deep. No more attitude, no more jokes. This night would be different. It was a visceral need to feel as one, united, to belong to each other. It was a promise.

Draco gently stroked Harry's face with his palm, observing each parcel of skin, the seam of his lips, the line of his nose, his almond eyes and their vibrant green, the thin scar on his forehead, his wild locks. Draco seemed to memorize each feature. Then he lowered his hand and trailed it over the frail body, absorbing the slightest detail, the thin lines on his neck, the smooth and pale torso, the wrists where the skin is so fragile and silky. The cock both soft and hard in his hand. The way Harry spread his legs under his caresses. Harry let him observe his body, a bit nervous at first, feeling even more naked under his scrutiny, but the adoration behind those grey eyes moved him, and it felt like the most intimate thing he had ever experienced.

Draco gently stroked Harry's cock, his two hands enveloping the burning flesh as he slid his gaze back to Harry's face, drinking in each of his reactions: the brunet's half-closed eyes… his neck tensing… his lips parting… his hips rising slightly… his hands gripping the sheets… the thin sheen of sweat on his face… the blush on his cheeks. The very image of pleasure.

Draco didn't wait any longer. His gestures were sweet and diligent. He prepared Harry slowly. Harry grabbed the interior of his thighs between his arms and folded his legs against his chest, offering himself to Draco, his position giving him an immediate vulnerability. He would give himself completely to his lover.

"I'm yours" he was silently saying.

When Draco penetrated him, it was with the utmost delicacy, eyes locked, lost in him. Draco breathed deeply and lay down on Harry, his cheek resting on his torso. He didn't move for a long time and Harry wondered what he was expecting. Draco let out a long breath and said:

"Let's stay like this a bit."

Harry was surprised by the sudden stop, but he was ready to do whatever Draco needed. He ran his hand through the blonde's hair, laced his legs around his waist and patiently waited. Draco moved his head and cupped his face with his hands before kissing him. He began to move his hips slowly, full of self-restraint, his thrusts like little warm waves. It was tender and deep, their weary bodies finding comfort and care in each other, without looking for an immediate release. Harry could have fallen asleep like that, Draco buried inside him. The sensation was so powerful, the joy to be full with him, it brought tears to his eyes. It was a rocking, a sweet rise. Long moans pepperedthe embrace, and when Draco released in Harry, it seemed an eternity had passed. He had never felt so close, so entirely dedicated to the man. A second later, Draco bent his face and kissed him with a tenderness that made him melt, his tongue feasting on his palate, the depth of his mouth, his eyes open, taking possession of him. Draco breathed in his mouth and whispered, "I love you."

The words had been said. In the silence and the darkness, his voice had risen, soft, yet thunderous in Harry's ears.

Never before had Harry given any significance to such declarations. Everyone placed importance on those words, but not him. He had heard them so many times, on the brink of an orgasm, on the lips of lusty men, promises, soothing words… A lie. He had said it himself numerous times, without any difficulty or remorse. It didn't mean anything. But it was different. In this room, now, everything was different.

The words had been sincere. Harry knew Draco enough to be adamantly sure the blonde would not use them lightly. The moment, the way he was looking at him, deep into his soul, the way he had said it, the words firm and definitive, like a sweet sentence. He knew he would never forget that night. Oh no, he wouldn't.

_He loves me._

Harry was completely blown away. His heart might have exploded from the sheer force of the thought. He finally felt like he belonged, he was exactly where he should be. He looked at Draco, his eyes sparkling, and the words flowed naturally, as clear as crystal, "Me too Draco. I love you."

He smiled, a glorious, genuine smile, and then kissed Draco.

"I love you," he repeated, the words sounding so delightful on his tongue. He wanted to sing it, to shout it; it was the most joyful moment of his life.

Then they kissed again, Draco still inside him, his hands buried in his untamed hair, Harry gripping his shoulder, the two losing themselves in the momentum.

This perfect moment.

Draco looked finally at peace, it was heart wrenching; that he, Harry, could make him so happy!

There was so much love in these grey eyes as Draco murmured, "Thank you… thank you for your beautiful self… You're the only one who believes in me. You're everything, love…. everything to me."

The declaration had been breath taking, and Harry felt a knot in his stomach and his throat, overwhelmed by the emotion. Draco had given him all his love, his trust. His faith.

And at that moment, Harry knew he had no more choice. Draco had opened his heart to him, and it was his turn to open his. He didn't even realize the enormity of what he was about to do. He just knew he had to do it. His heart beat strong. He was afraid, yes, but it was the right thing to do.

If he didn't do it now, he wouldn't do it ever.

Draco was covering him with his body, lying between his parted thighs, his head just above him, his hands circling his cheeks. His eyes never left his when Harry whispered, his voice wavering, "Draco, I didn't meet you by chance that night at the Rosemary's… "

Draco lost his smile and Harry felt a sickening dread fill his body. The words were out, he couldn't backtrack now. He had to go through with it. He swallowed and continued, "I had… I had a mission. I was ordered to infiltrate the Organization and seduce you."

His face looked so vulnerable, his eyes melancholic and fearful, ready for the blow. But Draco didn't react. He just stared at him, his face imperturbable. Harry was fazed by his attitude but it left him hope too. Draco hadn't struck him or yelled at him, and it allowed him to go on.

"I was working for the Division."

The words freed themselves as the weight of his secret was lifted from him. Draco looked utterly emotionless, his eyes unreadable, his body stiff against his. He hadn't blinked once and Harry was afraid to know what was going on inside his head. He waited for something, a word, an outburst, but he couldn't bear this silence anymore.

Harry began to shiver, he wanted so badly for Draco to understand him.

"But I fell in love with you on the way," he said, tears gathering in his eyes, the revelation so painful, the realization of what it implied and what he risked losing was overtaking him. "You bewitched me, and I was lost. So I put a stop to it, I told them it was over. You were too important for me!"

Watching Draco's steel features, panic rose inside him. Draco had still to remove his hands from his face. His eyes were boring into his, blank and cold. Harry needed a reaction. He couldn't read his expression. What was he thinking?

Harry shivered more strongly. Draco's unresponsiveness was killing him now, his silence suffocating. The darkness began to press on him, the bed suddenly looking too small. He felt compelled to explain himself and apologize again, because the more the minutes passed, the more he felt helpless. There was nothing but his voice, speaking faster and faster, and it was an awful feeling.

Why wouldn't Draco speak to him?

"I've never wanted to betray you, I had no choice! Remus is alive, I lied to you. They're still holding him over there, and it was the only way, you understand? The only way to make sure he was safe!"

Draco's eyes were wide open, no blinking, no sign of recognition, but Harry felt his hands tighten around his face like a vice. His voice hitched, the words more urgent, "He promised me… there was no other way, Draco. But now… now I know…. I know I can't live without you…"

He noticed the tension in Draco's jaw, his eyes dilated. The blonde's face had imperceptibly hardened, his breath stronger now.

"I love you Draco. I… Please, forgive me."

Harry couldn't add anything. He needed Draco to accept the truth. There was nothing else to do. The blonde's hands were hurting his face, but it didn't matter. He loved him so. Draco would understand.

"Forgive me," he ended in a whisper.

Draco eyed him for a long moment again, still mute. Lips trembling, Harry attempted a last "Draco?"

Then, the blonde's hand finally moved. Harry froze, eyes wide, then the fingers slid to his throat and violently ripped the golden chain from his neck. Harry was petrified. Draco threw the chain across the room and briskly pulled away from Harry, scampering from the bed and storming out of the room, leaving Harry alone in the suddenly very cold sheets. The moment of peace and joy had turned into a profound torment, leaving only great emptiness, and Harry became painfully aware of the burden of his decision.

Draco knew everything now.

Harry had been so sure it was the right time to confess, that Draco would be ready to hear it, but now the foolishness of his action dawned on him. Division 8 had attacked them only four days ago. Draco was still in shock at Zabini's death and Pansy's injury. Yes, but Harry had cut his ties with the Division, he'd chosen Draco, and if he intended to stay with him, it was imperative he came clean. What relationship would they have built upon such lies?

Now alone, naked under the sheets, he knew his fate was no longer in his hands, that he had given the blonde the weapons to destroy him. Now, it all depended on Draco. He could decide to end it with him, to punish him one way or another, or to accept the truth and listen to his heart. If Draco's feelings were genuine, he would forgive him eventually. He would hate him first, but he would accept the situation and come back to him.

Draco loved him. It couldn't go any other way.

Harry took comfort in these last thoughts and told himself it would be alright. But despite his good intentions, he burst into tears, his face buried in his hands.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The next day, Harry was secluded in Draco's room, not even daring to venture out. All night he had feared an impromptu repercussion, Draco bursting into his room, gun in hand, or the arrival of his former lackeys. Or worse yet, Lucius' return. From then on, anything was possible. He knew Draco could be unpredictablewhen he felt deceived. And Harry remembered vividly his words about Flint.

"_Harry, he's a tra__itor. He stabbed us in the back! I can't let him live."_

With Draco's unstable frame of mind, anything could happen. Nonetheless, Harry kept the foolish hope he would fall in his arms again. It would be difficult. Draco had led the Organization for years. He wouldn't change from one day to another. Surely, once far from Lucius' manipulations, he would get back to business. He may have already gotten in touch with his old collaborators.

Harry was lost. He felt, more than ever, he was part of the "other side". Enemy again.

Anxious, he fumbled in his pocket and took out the compass Ron had given him. He had kept it preciously and often carried it close. He opened and closed the sphere, again and again, his thumb rubbing the metal as if it were a lucky charm. He felt so confused and anxious, and the object in his hand calmed him. It kept him grounded somehow. Then the motions of his hand abruptly stopped and he clasped the compass to his palm in a resolute manner.

No. Harry refused to believe it was over. Draco had reacted rashly, shocked by his revelation. Anyone would have acted the same way. Now, they needed to take the time to think and they would have to talk. Harry would fix it all.

He shoved the compass into his pocket and stood up. All was not lost. He wouldn't give up.

When he got out of the room, a deafening silence welcomed him; as though the house was deserted. He felt like prey expecting to be cornered and devoured. He gave a worried look around and slowly walked down the stairs, his hand sliding on the banister, blood furiously pulsing in his veins.

There was not a soul in the living-room and the hall, the place so devoid of life it was frightening, as though something was about to explode. He stumbled into the kitchen. Empty too. Harry felt more and more uneasy.

Then suddenly, the door opened and Emma walked in. Her eyes widened with surprise.

"Harry? If you're looking for Master Malfoy, he went out early this morning. He said he had errands to run." She moved toward the sink and put some water in a kettle. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Do you want me to make you something?"

_Errands?_

Fear took over Harry's body, sweeping away all the hopes he had conceived. Did Draco go and warn the gang? Would he try to take revenge?

Suddenly, nausea came over him and the mere idea of eating turned his stomach.

"Thank you but I'm not very hungry."

Emma frowned and eyed him with a maternal stare.

"Oh, you look awfully pale. A fresh glass of orange juice and scrambled eggs would do you good."

Harry kept himself from vomiting at only the thought of food and stuttered, "No, I… I think I'm going to lie down a bit…"

"Very well, but are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just need to rest."

With that, he left and went to sit in the common room in the first floor.

His hand on his forehead, he tried to find a solution. He couldn't stay and wait for Draco to dispose of him. But he had the ultimate conviction that Draco would give him a second chance. The words he had told him last night, the intimate experience they had shared… He couldn't just discard and throw it away like that. He wanted to talk to Draco at least one last time.

It was at that moment he heard the door slamming downstairs.

He needed to know where they stood. To lay it all on the line.

He crossed the door and descended the stairs to meet Draco who was already on his way up. He stopped at the landing where the double staircase met, Draco now in front of him. The blonde glared at him, his body rigid and his eyes cold, full of despise. Harry felt like an insignificant insect, unwanted. The way Draco was eyeing him made him feel dirty and unworthy. Upset by this silent scrutiny, Harry managed to let out, "Draco, please, don't look at me like that. I know what I did is inexcusable, but you have to understand I didn't have a choice. Just like I didn't chose to fall in love with you! It just happened, the harm was already done. I cared about Blaise and Pansy…"

Harry had no time to finish his sentence before Draco's hand was around his neck, pinning him against the wall. Draco's eyes were bloodshot, proof of his lack of sleep. The vision only added to Harry's fright. He stayed stunned, motionless against the wall.

"Don't you dare pronounce their names, you hear me! You rat, you condemned them! It wasyou who put Blaise in his coffin and Pansy's not far behind him! All because of you! I questioned myself, I even thought about leaving everything! Fuck I was blind!"

Draco reddened with anger, and Harry felt unable to look away from his terrifying face. There was so much rage and suffering behind those grey eyes. It was an odd feeling to know that he was the cause of this. Draco was out of his depth. After Ellis, even after Lucius, this was the first time he'd seen such a burning and raw hatred in his eyes. His voice was hard and bitter, anger rising with each word spoken, "You bullshitted me this whole time, selling yourself for those bastards! And after you got fucked, you were slipping from my bed to squeal on us!"

His head was so close to Harry's he could see the little spasms in his eye and the angry vein on his forehead.

"Your pretty words, your innocent air… you knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you? You're just a fucking whore!"

Draco's mouth twisted, then in a flash, he lifted his arm. His fist flew. Harry closed his eyes, ready for the strike. He felt the air rise, the quick brush of the skin on his cheek and the sound of the hand crashing on the marble, right beside his head. He started, unwilling to look at Draco again. He was mortified. Ashamed and miserable. The hit surely had been painful, but Draco showed nothing on his face. He was breathing hard as he spoke again, "Why do I even bother? It's a waste of breath… "

He removed his hand from Harry's neck and took a step backward. The sudden distance and coldness felt harsher than his previous outburst.

"You betrayed me and the whole gang, but you betrayed your own kind too. Nothing can excuse that."

He eyed Harry up and down with blatant contempt and threw at him, "I'm looking at you and all I see is a sad pathetic man with nothing to look forward to. Behind your duplicity, who are you, huh? A fraud!" He snorted cruelly. "I thought I lost everything, but I wouldn't trade my place for yours in a million years. You're worth nothing."

Harry had taken those insults right to the heart. The man he loved had spat bile in his face, with such maliciousness and sincerity. He believed everything he had said, and the words sounded all too real to Harry's ears.

Rat. Whore. Fraud. Nothing.

Without Draco, Harry had lost his direction. The moment he had found his joie de vivre, it had been ripped from him, and in the most brutal way. But it was a foregone conclusion. What did he expect? That Draco would jump into his arms, forgive him and profess his undying love?

Harry wanted to die. He wanted to close his eyes and forget everything. He wanted never to have met Draco, never to have crossed McCarthy's path, never to have fought Voldemort. Never to have been born. Since his childhood, he had been under the yoke of a curse. He had never had any say in his life; because there were always couldn't give up the people who counted on him. And now that he had found love, now that he could finally think about his own happiness, he was forced to sacrifice it again.

Draco threw him a last disgusted look before leaving upstairs. Harry was petrified against the wall, eyes dazed. He couldn't hear his heart anymore, only this huge wound, this ache in his chest. A burn so intense he couldn't feel anything else. He felt he couldn't go on, he wouldn't survive this. He pushed himself off the wall and put his hand on the railing. After a moment, he tried to move forward, hesitated, then stepped backward, but his left foot wouldn't cooperate. He turned then stopped, at aloss. It was as if his body didn't answer to him anymore, broken in half.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry had stayed huddled on the balcony off his room all day long. He was losing himself in the vision of the landscape, trying to empty his mind, his cold body feeling numb. He was expecting Draco to come at any moment, and this waiting was agony. Scenarios were banging together in his head, with the same brutal outcome. All he was hoping now was that his former lover would come find him quick and end his suffering. To die under his blows, why not? It seemed logical, almost enviable.

Two knocks on the door.

_This is it._

"Yes?"

Matthew. "Master Malfoy is expecting you in the red common room."

Harry sighed. It would no doubt be their last confrontation. Who knew what was awaiting him now.

As he was heading to the hallway, a little light caught his attention by the corner of the chest of drawers. He bent to discover the pendant Draco had unceremoniously thrown away, symbol of the end. He looked at it a moment, the little key resting in his palm. The memory of the night of his birthday, their laughter, their embrace… So far away now. Harry let the chain slide between his fingers. The clasp was broken. Harry hesitated but he couldn't let go of the jewel. He finally looped it around his neck and made a knot to tie it. It felt good against his skin. It felt right.

Harry turned to Matthew and braced himself, ready for the execution.

Once in the corridor, his steps turned steady, mechanical. An out of bodyexperience. His mind felt foggy, his hand outstretched before him by its own accord. The golden doorknob, the creaking sound, then he looked inside, the red curtains and walls reminding him of the colour of blood, long shadows playing over the walls. Too many shadows. Was he dreaming? Then the door opened wide to reveal a silhouette, then another one. Harry gasped and froze.

Montague, Nott, Pucey, other men Harry had encountered at the River. Before the far wall of the room, Lucius, his two blond minions on his left, Draco on his right. They were all standing straight as a board, the perfect posture, as if it was some sort of ceremony. Goyle was not far from the door, keeping watch. Another man next to him closed the door behind Harry and the brunet instantly felt a tremendous oppression. He thought he'd never see those faces again, and here he was, trapped with them.

Lucius was speaking loudly and Harry's arrival hadn't disrupted his speech. The man was priding himself for the evolution of the Organization it seemed, praising his men for their great work. Some of them were holding glasses of champagne, as though they were celebrating something.

So Draco was back in the Organization.

Everyone was listening religiously, the little assembly drinking in Lucius' words as if they were part of a sect. The candles deposited on the tables all around the room accentuated this disturbing feeling. What a strange reunion. It felt like a parody of a funeral. Lucius looked at Harry for a brief moment, his eyes luminous, but he didn't let himself get distracted and kept on with his speech.

"I wanted to congratulate most particularly Graham Montague for his work." He looked at the grinning man and added, "You made a terrific job. I knew you'd be a good element."

Harry turned his stare to Draco. The man's eyes were cast down, his forehead glistening. Had Lucius imposed his presence upon him? Had he forced him in some way? He looked so skittish and frail next to his father. Nothing comparable with the strong-headed man who had stood up to him earlier. Maybe the loss of Zabini and his confession had shaken him to the point where he had sought out the presence of his father once again.

Harry observed all those satisfied and arrogant faces. Draco was nothing like them. It wasn't right.

Lucius' voice sounded more and more cold, and the change of tone made Harry turn his attention back to him.

"… a real tragedy. We lost one of our own. Now war is declared. Division 8 clearly showed its intentions. Its actions were ruthless and uncalled for. We can't close our eyes anymore. The Division took us for target and will stop at nothing to hurt us. Their actions are vile and vicious. Their agents haveinfiltrated everywhere… in each corner…"

Harry didn't like the direction his speech was taking. His heart started to race. So this was how it would end?

He looked at Draco again, so subdued and weak he couldn't lift his head. What? Couldn't he even look him in the eye? Was he too shamed about what he had done? Why? He had made his choice. Now he had to assume it. But no,he would keep his head lowered like the coward he was while Lucius condemned himin front of the assembly.

"… Oh yes, closer than we think…"

Draco was standing still, like the two amoebas beside Lucius. He had sold him out.

Harry's eyes were boring into his face, anger rising in his chest.

_Fucking look at me!_

Harry could have shouted it he was so incensed. But there was nothing he could do, nothing to make better.

He thought about a way to get himself out of this ambush. The guards were behind him, and the most eminent members of the clan were there.

"… in our own ranks…"

Harry wasn't looking at him anymore, but he already knew Lucius was fixing him with his piercing, sadistic eyes.

Harry's breathwas now so strong his chest kept rising and falling in a crazy tempo. He couldn't believe it was really happening.

"… a traitor…"

Survival instinct took over.

With a sudden jerk of his arm, Harry knocked over the glass of alcohol and the candle on the table near him, the cloth caught fire instantly. He used the moment of stupor to throw himself at the big guy in front of the doorway. The man had removed his jacket to extinguish the fire, and was too distracted to stop him right away. Harry wrenched the door open and ran. Of course, he only got two seconds before Lucius' flunkies rushed after him.

"Don't let him get away! I want him alive!"

Lucius' voice, like a bark behind him.

On the stairs, two heavies were already waiting for him and started to climb up.

_Shit._

There was only one other way out. Harry rushed upstairs, four guys on his heels, merely two meters behind him. One hesitation, one stumble, and it was over.

The door of the mirrored room was right in front of him. He yanked it open and closed it right on one of the guards' face, turning the key swiftly.

_Click. _

The salutary noise of the lock.

_The second door__!_

He had forgotten it.

He threw himself at the handle frenzied. One of the men was already opening it and Harry had to use all his might, increased by his desperation, to push him away, the man's arm worming inside to obstruct the closure. Harry pressed his face against the door, sweat forming on his forehead. His hand turned completely, the pressure against the door increasing. He grimaced and gave a furious yell. The power battle was even, but Harry was ready for anything. The chubby hand was right next to his face and he reacted without thinking: he bit the plump fingers wildly, feeling blood in his mouth. The hand moved but he didn't let go right away. Like an animal, he only released when he knew he had tamed his prey. He heard a cry then removed his teeth and used his last strength in a final push. The hand retreated and he managed to shut the door and lock it.

He huffed like an asthmatic, deprived of air, his face red and his muscles sore.

He slumped against the door, catching his breath, but the game was far from over.

_Bam__! Bam! Bam!_

He was stuck on the second floor, the guards banging on the doors like crazy. Harry's back jolted under the reverberations. The wood was solid but the blokes were ganging up on it, and the hinges wouldn't hold long. Harry frowned, ready to cry from frustration and discouragement. He ran a hand through his hair, frozen for a second, fixing his reflection in the mirror.

_Look at you. You're weak__! __P__ull yourself together! You've made it to this point, you will make it __through this__._

He swallowed and stood up, taking a warrior stance, his face determined and his body tense. He looked around and ran to the table in the middle of the room. He gripped the edge and pushed. The piece of furniture was heavy, but Harry didn't lose courage. He pushed harder then changed position to pull the table toward the door. To the cost of much effort, he managed to shove it against the door and block the entryway.

It left the second door. Harry spun franticly around, but there was nothing much in the room. Only the big, high sideboard, impossible to move. Then, suddenly, something caught his attention: a shiny thing sticking out from the curtains. He moved forward and parted the velvet to find a long golden curtain rod. It was heavy and solid. It would do. Harry rushed to the door vibrating under the assault of the guards, and wedged the rod against the carved wood. It would slow down their progression, but he had to get out of here now.

He looked at the windows. The floors were high. At best, he would make it with serious injuries, but Lucius' men would quickly catch him if he was severely harmed. They would interrogate him and probably kill him. Same result. Harry went to open the windows nevertheless, and surprise: it was sealed shut. Harry struggled with the handle, but it would not give. Infuriated, Harry hit the window with his fist, the thump joining the noise behind him.

_Bam__ Bam Bam!_

Harry let out a raging cry. He was doomed!

He rubbed his face then took a deep breath. He had to keep his mind clear. He wouldn't surrender now. In a fit of anger, he threw his foot at the frame, kicking wildly, gritting his teeth. He kicked and kicked again, feeling the wood creaking against his shoe. He was out of breath, pain stinging up his leg, but he wouldn't stop. He had a chance to survive. Freedom was within reach, he could feel it. He unrelentingly kept booting the casing. The window frame slowly gave in, but it still wouldn't open. Then, when he felt his leg shaking, his strength leaving him, he ran into the balcony door, crashing against the window, his shoulder colliding with the frame. And again, and again.

Behind him, the pounding on the doors intensified and Harry expected them to break any time now.

He was out of breath, sore all over, but he had to go on. Desperate, he moved back to take a run up and threw himself at the window with a shout. The crash, the breaking, the window opening wide: he didn't even realize he had made it, only just avoiding falling over the banister.

His body bowed, head hanging over the balcony, he opened his eyes, looking down at the backyard. A notion of déjà vu. No cornice. Better. A smile stretched upon his face, radiant and a bit mad.

It was too good to be true: ivy, all along the facade, a real vegetal wall to climb on.

The blows were going on behind him and he heard orders thrown around. They were probably going to go round the house and snatch him outside. He had no time to lose.

Harry didn't hesitate and stepped over the balcony, lacing his fingers around the branches, but the hold was steady. He realized the task wouldn't be as easy as he thought, but it was not like he had a choice. He descended resembling a trembling leaf, his legs clinging to the ivy then untangling with difficulty. A real spider web in which he had trouble besting, but he was so terrified, adrenaline pumping in his veins, that he managed to clamber earthward quickly. There was no one down there, but he knew it was only a matter of seconds before they would catch him up.

Then he heard voices coming from afar, on the other side of the house. They were already outside. Harry was eighteen feet above the ground but there was no time, he had to act now.

He jumped.

The jolt was violent and took his breath away. A dry cry escaped his throat, a hoarse breath. The pain was throbbing: he had landed on his back. He was paralyzed by the pain but he could hear the others coming close.

One breath, a second one, and he managed with an unknown energy reserve to get on his feet, hunched up but alert. He pitifully walked away, unable to run, then finally pushed his legs harder.

"Come on! COME ON!" he yelled to encourage himself.

He headed to the low wall behind the house with the foolish hope to climb it in his state. He hobbled along in a pathetic run when he felt a hand latch on his arm. He closed his eyes. He had lost the strength to continue anyway and his body finally gave up. He had pushed himself to the limit, and it was the end.

_Bang! Bang! Bang__!_

Gun shots behind him.

He closed his eyes hard, expecting to be hit, but no. The hand holding him let go and something hit the ground. When Harry opened his eyes, he saw the guard at his feet, a bullet in the head.

_Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta!_

Riffles in the distance, toward the house. Shouts, orders left and right.

"Go, go, go! Get a move on!"

Then someone threw himself at Harry, a man in black. Harry frowned, confused.

What's going on?

Then he heard, "Not him, he's with us."

_What?_

"Ok."

The guy let go of him and Harry looked at the house, gunfire like firecrackers and light flashes inside. Sounds of breaking, windows shattering. The property was destroyed again, as thought the recent restorations had never taken place. Militia, armed to the teeth, in every corner.

Professionals.

_McCarthy._

"_He's with us,"_ someone had said.

Harry laughed like he had lost his mind. After all that had happened, here he was, considered a member of the Division. He had struggled, he had taken his distances, but it had been useless. He couldn't escape the consequences of his evil pact.

Harry heard a piercing cry and lifted his head. He caught sight of Lucius' silhouette behind the first floor window. He had the distinct impression his eyes were directed toward him, that they entered into contact for a few seconds, but maybe it was just an illusion. He was too far away to be sure.

Then all of a sudden, the impact.

_BAAAAAM! BAAAAM__!_

A big ball of fire. The blast of the explosion sent Harry hurtling to the ground, several meters behind him. He had barely seen Lucius' chair fly through the window like a projectile before his head hit the grass.

Groggy, Harry managed to prop himself up on his elbows. His vision was blurry and he felt his head pulse like a migraine was coming. It took a moment for him to discern what was in front of his eyes.

The sight was incredible: the house was prey to flames, the windows all smashed, the smoke rising from every corner, crackling noises and faint detonations inside.

On the first floor balcony, the shocker: Lucius' charred body dangling over the banister, his hair hanging in flames, the chair still stuck against him, its wheels rolling in the air. The chair's weight was probably the only thing that prevented the body from falling over the balcony.

The house was in such a state that no one could have survived. The damage had been too violent.

Several of McCarthy's men had perished. Harry could see two corpses on the ground floor, another not far from the garden. The combustion had been so strong that the people close to the perimeter had been swept away by the backdraft and the blast wave.

Harry knew Draco was dead. They were all dead.

There were only five or six people still standing, all McCarthy's men.

Harry looked at the inferno, the burning curtains, the furniture crackling inside, the scorched ivy, annihilation.

His sight became cloudy, he could see nothing but orange and grey dots. Then his heavy head fell backwards, his eyes rolling over. The fog. Then the black hole.


	21. The King is Dead, Long Live the King

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The ever fantastic Avenalanon and the great MsLefay. Any mistake left is mine.

A/N: So sorry for the delay. What can I say, these last weeks were crazy and I had little respite. I can only promise the next update will be sooner. A big thank you to all the anonymous reviewers. Your words put a smile on my face and really motived me to put more time in this story.

So here's the new chapter, tell me what you think.

* * *

**CHAPTER 20: THE KING IS DEAD, LONG LIVE THE KING**

**September 29, 2004**

Harry jerked and half-opened his eyes, but the light blinded him. He struggled to wake up completely, to no avail. He felt a pressure, like a vice around his head. He moaned, his mouth pasty and bitter. A blurry shadow was speaking above him yet he couldn't understand anything. He fell back into unconsciousness.

When he awoke a second time, he kept his eyes closed even so he tried to concentrate on his surroundings, listening to the sounds around him.

Footsteps ... a sputtering whisper, like a voice on a cell phone followed by a grunt.

Then a loud, "Potter, come on. Potter!"

Harry blinked despite himself, eyes rolling in his head, but it wasn't enough. The voice got angrier, "Come on Potter, wake up now! Stop pretending! "

The command prompted Harry to make a last effort. He managed to open his eyes again, though he couldn't clearly see the dreaded silhouette before him.

"About bloody time, princess!"

McCarthy of course. Talk about an unwelcome wake-up call!

The man was nervous, his hands digging in his pockets and his face tense.

Harry looked utterly small in his bed. He moved his lips, trying to formulate a question, "Wher… I… aco… is he…"

He coughed and as he attempted to shift his hand, he felt a discomfort in his wrist. On lifting his arm and saw the tube coming out of his hand, the stinging needle. He noted the white walls around him, the thin blanket and the rough sheets.

A hospital.

Harry was hardly comprehensible, his words swallowed up. He finally managed to articulate, "Draco…?"

A snigger, then McCarthy's voice, strangely low, unless his ears were playing tricks with him, "Sorry Potter, but your boyfriend is dead, like everyone else."

Harry's eyes darkened, but his face was already scrunched up with pain so his reaction went unnoticed.

"Oh yes, Potter, believe it! The fucker is dead at last!" McCarthy smiled and gloated, "It was a hell of a raid. Oh, yes, this is a grand moment my friend!"

"Draco…" Harry said again like a desperate plea. "No…"

McCarthy resumed nonchalantly, "There were only ashes inside. Everything's gone up in smoke. Several of the microchips we found were unreadable but I can tell you no one got out of the building alive. Mission accomplished. And no thanks to you!"

He leaned toward Harry, his mouth against Harry's ear, and said with a joyful tone, a bit perverse

"But don't think I'm finished with you. The deal hasn't been completed. As soon as you're on your feet, you're back at work. I have plans for you."

McCarthy visibly enjoyed this game. Even with Harry's condition, he kept toying with him. It was psychotic, there was no doubt about it. Harry knew that this man and his team had crossed the point of no return. They were unredeemable.

"You're not through with me," McCarthy slipped in his ear. "Not by a long shot."

Harry didn't rise to the provocation. And even if he had wanted too, he didn't have the strength to retort anything. McCarthy was obviously holding the power. The man stared at Harry with a frightening glow in his eyes, which told him his troubles were not ended. Abruptly, a nurse appeared and chided the agent, "That's enough, I already told you he needs to rest!"

McCarthy schooled his features and took on a honeyed tone, "Ok, ok, no problem. I'll go."

He turned to Harry and with a wink, threw a loud "Take care of yourself, son!"

Harry would have laughed at that but he was still slowly recovering his senses.

The man finally left the room. Harry already knew there was a guard outside the door, but he had no intention of staying in here. He was convinced that Draco was still alive and he wouldn't let it go. He needed to find him.

With this new motivation, he lifted his head but the movement was too brisk and his body ached all over. Seized with a coughing fit, he peered at the table near his bed and noticed the empty glass and pitcher of water calling to him. His mouth felt furry, his throat so dry... He wriggled, his muscles sore and his body stiff, trying to reach the glass, when the nurse came to his rescue.

Her hand wrapped around the glass and she tilted the jug to fill it, the melodious sound of the water echoing in Harry's ears. She brought the cup to his mouth, the brunet dipping his chapped lips into it and lapping at the water avidly. He coughed once more and had to stop drinking for a moment. The nurse placed it back on the table and turned to him.

"Don't overwork yourself. You've been through a great trauma," she said, rearranging the pillow under his head. "I hope you're comfortable. I'm afraid we had to put you in a double room since A&E is overloaded."

He turned his head aside, trying to get a look at his room companion, but McCarthy had gone to the trouble of shutting the curtain for more discretion. He sighed and glanced at the big clock. It was one in the afternoon.

"How long..." he muttered.

"Five days. You took your time waking up... Your friend was getting quite agitated," she added, arching an eyebrow.

Five days. Many things could happen in five days. Draco could be hiding somewhere... And what about the Organization? Was it still there? And Pansy, had she finally regained consciousness?

His head was throbbing now and he had to close his eyes to take a moment. The nurse perceived his pain and checked the IV bag hanging from the hook of a mobile stand. She gave him a sympathetic look. Her features were soft, giving her a kind appearance. Combined with the way she had said "friend" a moment ago… Harry could have sworn there was contempt in her voice. He swallowed and decided to take a chance.

"Please, I have to get out of here..." he pleaded.

The nurse regarded the closed door then lowered her eyes.

"I know… I could recognize these men anywhere, and I don't like what they do..." Harry's eyes lit with hope. "But I can't help you... I'm sorry."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but she walked out the room briskly. It was little more than running away. Harry sighed and examined the cannula in his hand.

_Great..._

As if it couldn't be worse, they had given him morphine. Might as well give him a fix while they were at it!

Harry pulled out the perfusion immediately, no matter the pain in his back and head that would surely come back later with a vengeance. His limbs were too heavy and sore for him to arise so he just surveyed around, weighing his options.

There wasn't much. He couldn't leave with the guard at the door and this exit was the only escape route. He gazed sideways again, wondering who the other patient might be. Harry knew he would need him to get out of here.

And a half-hour later, the perfect opportunity presented itself: visitors. And not discreet ones. A large family, four… no five children, a couple and another adult. The noisy type, a cyclone in the silence of the room. The nurse had gestured them to quieten down before they closed the door but the warning was hardly effective. The chubby lady put a finger on her mouth and shushed, before complaining about the stupid rules of the hospital. The man who appeared to be her husband gave a throaty laugh while the kids whined, dragging their feet along. Harry observed the cortege pass, through the small gap between the curtains, his lips curling into a conniving smile.

A plan concocted itself in his head.

Once the visitors began their torrential conversation, Harry lifted the bed sheet off himself and put his feet down on the cold floor.

_"My darling... that bloody road hog, if I'd got him..."_

Words reached him here and there while he was carefully making his way to the side of the bed. He took a minute, the time required for his head to stop spinning, then he opened the drawer next to his bed. His clothes were folded and bagged. The sweatshirt and jeans were smeared with grass and dirt stains. He dressed in his rumpled garments, wincing every now and then as the lady's shrill voice rang out. A hand over his forehead, he got back under the bed covers, patiently waiting for the right occasion. It seemed like an eternity before he heard the first goodbyes. He sighed, hopped off the mattress, opened the curtain and nodded toward the bed, pretending to leave an acquaintance.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better. Take care mate!"

He tilted his head to the side, giving a small smile towards the little family. The kids grimaced at his apparel as they piled ahead of him. Harry waited a few seconds before blending in with the crowd. The first steps were uneasy. His legs felt numb and he tried hard to stop their shaking. The world was spinning around him but he kept walking as if nothing were wrong. The door opened onto a long and crowded corridor, the yellow neons and the greenish linoleum adding a deathly hue to the atmosphere of the place. Harry took care to lower his head, shrinking himself. With his smaller stature, he didn't need a great effort to pass unnoticed. He peered beneath his fringe toward the corridor and spied a suited man, sitting with a paper in his hands. The man turned his head in their direction and rose. Harry felt his pulse race, his frail legs threatened to give out and his head was pounding violently. He twisted his face away and forced a sympathetic smile to his lips.

"Hello. Do you have a hospitalized friend also?" he asked the family's mother. "My cousin got knocked down by a car," he said mustering a sad but angelic look. "Both legs in casts. He only just survived..."

The woman opened her eyes wide, seemingly delighted to have his attention. "Oh, poor thing, I know what its like," she responded loudly. "Our youngest got hit by a car too. He's been lucky, oh yes, God saved him. I thank Him e-very-day!" She took Harry by the shoulder and jostled him along, her face so close to him he could see the hair in her nose. "Those damned reckless drivers! And do you think justice puts those killers in jail? No, of course not!" she shouted. "And what a dreadful hospital. We'd been in the waiting room for hours before they let us see our baby!" Harry nodded, feigning outrage, and took a gander at the guard between the heads of the two younger boys. He saw the man roll his eyes and tiredly drop into his chair. "My little boy fractured his shoulder and he has a... a..." The woman waved her hands, searching for the word. "... a concussion, yes...We got so scared... Huh, Henry, we got scared, didn't we?"

Then the amicable husband happily joined the conversation. With a last look, Harry made sure that the guard had lost all interest in the group. Indeed the man had resumed his reading, with his legs crossed carelessly. Just like that, by dint of the talkative family's unknowing help, Harry had managed to slip past the guard's vigilance. It had been easier than he had thought.

Harry kept walking toward freedom, his face relieved when he disappeared behind the closing elevator doors, the voluble lady and her family still at his side.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The bus was driving at a slow speed. The journey seemed endless to Harry who was fighting to keep a clear mind in his fragile state. Everything was churning around in his head; he was trying to make sense of these recent events. There were so many holes to fill in this mad story. He couldn't fathom how the Division had been able to plan the attack so quickly, and why no one had seen it coming.

The bus stopped and Harry stepped off in a hurry. He rushed along the sidewalk and ended up in front of a dirty shop window, the same shop he had entered months before, unaware that his life was about to take a decisive turn: the Treasure Box.

The place hadn't changed, still as sinister as ever, but Harry didn't pay it much attention. The shop was closed and he cupped his hands against the filthy glass frontage to take a look inside. He screwed up his eyes but there was no one visible within. He tried his luck anyway and knocked at the door insistently.

"Snape!" he shot out, "Snape!"

He turned his head and looked down the street, at loss for what to do. Then a little light appeared indoors. Harry started, eyes widening with hope. He would finally get answers.

Snape's face popped up behind the door, somber and uninviting, wholly his usual self, yet the apparition brought a smile to Harry's face... The joy of seeing a familiar face, someone who might be able to guide him. Snape unlocked the door and opened it. He eyed Harry incredulously.

"Potter?" he asked, lips tight.

Harry stepped forward, his eyes glassy and his face dangerously pale. There was a fleeting moment when both just stared at each other, then Harry grabbed the man by the shoulders, letting out a sigh of relief. The gesture had been spontaneous and as soon as he realized the awkwardness of the situation, he pulled his hands away.

Snape scouted over Harry's head into the street beyond - a habit to watch his back - then pulled him roughly inside before bolting the door behind him.

Harry's back and head continued hurting but he was so excited and nervous that he was distracted from it. Putting his weight on one foot then the other, he spoke feverishly in fits and starts:

"I didn't know what to do, McCarthy wouldn't let me go and I know... I know Draco found a way to get out of the house, I'm sure of it! He's always so resourceful; he'd never have let them take him down like that! An explosion, it's preposterous! He can't go like that, huh, besides, Lucius is dead now, the Organization is no more, everyone thinks he's dead too, it's the moment to try something! I'm sure he's already planning his comeback somewhere. I thought he might have contacted you, or even hidden here..."

Snape's expression told him it was not the case. Harry shook his head, mirroring the silent 'no', and kept on, "I'm sure he will come soon. And I want to be here when he does, I need to speak to him one more time..." Through his rambling, Snape stepped closer to him, stone-faced. Harry knew what was going on in the dark man's head, but he didn't care and shouted "I know he told Lucius everything, but he wasn't in his right mind! He was confused! I need to see him."

Then Snape grabbed the brunet by his arm, silencing him. "Potter! Calm down."

Harry looked at him, mouth open and eyes unfocused. Stopped in his tracks, his confidence and energy left him, and he was no more than a lost boy once again. From up close, Snape looked subdued and tired… as lost as him. Snape must have felt the turn of his thoughts for his cold, stoic mask fell back in place a second later.

"Come," the man said before leading Harry to the dark backroom.

He shut the door behind the brunet and placed his hands flat against the table. He spoke slowly so his words would be engraved in Harry's mind

"I know about the Division's intervention, and it may be tough to hear, but what they told you is true: everyone died." A pause. His face clouded. "Draco is dead."

Harry shook his head instantly. The words felt wrong. It wasn't true, it just wasn't.

Snape leaned further onto the table, stressing the statement "I didn't get any news about him and I won't ever again. It's over Harry."

How Snape could say such a thing? Draco was alive; it couldn't be any other way.

"No...No," Harry muttered, his voice categorical. "You don't know what you're talking about. Draco's clever, he knows how …"

"Harry," Snape interrupted, his voice soft but firm, trying to pull him together.

The younger man shook his head again in denial. "No, it can't end this way. It can't…"

Harry was stubborn. Worse, he was in love. Snape was now taking full consciousness of it.

He looked the young man right in the eye, even though Harry didn't hold his gaze, too confused and shaken to do so. "They made a clean sweep of the headquarters, everything's gone. The offices are deserted. The River is closed, the cottage has been sealed up. Everyone got wind of the Division's dragnet .They all took to their heels. You can be certain they will find a new gang and a new leader to follow. It's the law of the pack".

Harry looked elsewhere, deep in thought, then suddenly snapped up his head. "What about Pansy?" he interjected, his eyes lighting up again.

Snape shook his head. "From what I heard, she's disappeared."

"But… she was in a coma…"

"I'm well aware of her condition" Snape sneered, "All I know is she's not at the clinic anymore. No one knows what happened, if she's alive or dead."

Harry winced and put his hand on the back of his head. He had cracked open his skull when he fell during the explosion and several stitches decorated his skin. He was only biting the bullet because he had to sort this situation out and he had no time to waste. To hell with the pain.

Snape continued, "It is as if the group had never existed. There have been seizures, access to the sites is sealed. I couldn't save anything... Memories are all that's left."

He uttered these last words with a contrite look, his arms dangling. Harry knew that Snape was suffering. Draco was important to him too. In fact, in Harry's opinion, he was possibly the only person that mattered to him at all. Alone in this dingy room, they made a sad pair, mourning the one they had lost.

Snape suddenly stamped his foot down. Harry regarded him and frowned. Then, Snape crouched on the dusty floor and ran his hand across the corner. He lifted the dirty linoleum and his arm disappeared underneath. Then, he pulled something out from the hiding place. When he stood up, he had a small safe in his hands. He set it on the table.

"And this," he announced, "Draco entrusted to me the morning of the attack. He knew the wind had turned and he wasn't untouchable anymore. I don't know what it contains; Draco didn't give me the key. I suppose he thought he would retrieve it eventually, but now..." His eyes wandered away.

"That will happen." Harry suddenly affirmed, chin lifted in confidence. "He will come back and open it himself."

Snape raised his voice, exasperated by Harry's obstinacy. "Potter, you're not a kid anymore! You know exactly how the story ends. This is not a soap opera; he is dead! Get that into your head, he won't come back!"

Harry's face fell. Despite all he had gone through, he still thought things could turn for the better, but Snape's brutal words and his unyielding countenance started to weaken his resolve and shake his beliefs.

His eyes shifted to the safe. He edged his hands closer and touched it gently as though he was afraid to damage it. The casket was beautiful, an antique. The decorations and the lock were cast in pure gold. It reminded him of an old jewellery box.

_Jewellery!_

Instantaneously Harry's hand flew to his neck, his index finger traveling down the golden chain that Draco had offered him once. At the end, the little key. Harry examined the safe, the golden patterns, the form of the dead lock, and then the shape of the key. Had Draco really done this? His eyes slowly crept up to meet Snape's. The latter caught on immediately. He hadn't moved but something shifted on his face.

Harry untied the knot behind his nape and cradled the trinket in his palm, his hands trembling with excitement. Letting the chain dangle from the key he inserted it into the lock. After a small resistance, the key turned and the mechanism retracted.

Draco had literally given him the key to his secrets. In one of their blissful times, Harry had taken it for a romantic gesture, but it represented so much more. Draco had given him his trust, preceding Snape or anyone else, and it hurt even more now. The blonde had taken the key back, and that was only fair; but now it was at an end, Harry felt he had the right to see what Draco had hidden. It was, after all, the only testimony he had left.

It was Snape who opened the safe. Harry was too apprehensive to go through with the motion.

Inside: papers, an envelope, notebooks.

Snape leafed through the documents then perused a red notebook. "All his operations and his contacts," he said by way of information.

He took a larger notebook, a blue one. He unclosed it and read a few pages before freezing altogether. He viewed Harry with an unreadable expression. Harry chose to stay silent and wait for Snape to voice his concern. He was apprehensive to discern the cause of the man's shock. Draco had preciously stored these documents to hide them. It had to be important. What secrets could they harbour?

Snape flipped the papers rapidly, then inspected the envelope. Photos. Harry could only see the back of them. There was an inscription, a date and a place: "Sullivan's."

_No, it couldn't be!_

Harry wrenched the photos from Snape's hands. His eyes rounded when he rested his sight on the snapshots and his fingers started to shake compulsively: there he was, on that infamous day when he had fled the villa and ended up in a small pub only to finally fall upon McCarthy's henchman.

Harry entering the car in the alley escorted by the man.

Harry coming out of the car onto the street.

Harry, later on, entering his apartment.

He let the photos fall on the table and picked up the blue notebook: words written by Draco, his notes about the other members of the gang, his theories and plans, the events of the day.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Pages and pages covered with Draco's elegant writing. He skimmed through a few passages to get to the date of his first meeting with Draco at Rosemary's.

_April 20, 2004_

_Surprising encounter with none other than Harry Potter. Hard to believe he's hanging at Rosemary's. I can smell the trap from here. As I expected he tried to catch my attention all night and acted very forward. Let's see what the next days will bring..._

_April 25, 2004_

_… Severus told me he met Potter at the club. He's definitely trying to infiltrate our circle. If he thinks I will make it easier for him and welcome him in, he is sorely mistaken. I am pulling the strings. But might as well confront him now. It promises a good show!_

Harry turned the pages frantically.

_May 4, 2004_

_Pansy was up to her tricks again. Potter resides in the villa now. I'm not sure I can stand his presence any longer. He is hiding something, I can feel it. I know his record: arrests for drug use, soliciting, disorder in a public place, minor deals. It's been nicely set up. Goyle didn't find anything in his apartment, too neat to be true he said... And the phone line was dead. It's not a coincidence. I'm worried…_

Harry sat on a steel chair as if in slow motion, his eyes riveted on the book. He was stunned. He could hear Draco's voice behind the words; he could see his forehead crease under the doubts and suspicions. He kept on reading, Snape silent and still behind him.

_May 18, 2004_

_The moment I breathed this fouled air, I realized it would be a hard ordeal. All the memories assaulted me at the simple sight of this land. Seeing Matthew again, I had the impression I made a jump back in time, and the journey was most disagreeable. Lucius haunts me still…_

_… I think I came on a little strong with Harry, but he provokes me so... He unsettles me, and I haven't felt this way in a long time._

_The encounter with a coke head of his acquaintance proved to be very interesting. Harry has a much darker past than I previously thought. His record doesn't look so fabricated anymore. Harry was shocked by the reunion. He didn't fake it. His story is getting more intriguing by the minute. I wonder how he ended up here… I can't seem to figure him out. Tonight, I felt this great urge to protect him. I tried to talk to him but he closed in on himself. I'm waiting to see his reaction over the next few days._

_May 25, 2004_

_The situation with Harry is getting more and more confusing. My barriers have weakened and I don't think it is wise to let him get so close to me. I'm beginning to doubt my first assumptions. Harry is always so secretive, but considering the dark shadows of his past, I believe he is well and truly at a loss. I want to include him in our discussions, but I'm undecided. There are still grey areas in his story... I'm at a dead end._

_May 26, 2004_

_I'm getting closer to Harry. As times goes by, I find it harder to escape his pull. And why should I? I used to have all the right reasons to doubt him, but I can't remember them now. A double play? It can't be. Division 8 is still after me, but I can't believe Harry is linked in any way with these extremists. But I don't want to repeat my past mistakes…_

_May 27, 2004_

_I'm going to give him a chance. I can't put him of my mind. I feel oddly protective of him now. Harry Potter, what were the odds… His presence here must be a sign. It might be the beginning of something great. Besides, he gave me no reason not to trust him. Fate may have decided to show clemency to me for once. It's time I take my chances._

Pages about strategies, ongoing transactions, his conflict with Ellis, his worries about the deal to come.

Then:

_May 30, 2004_

_The Dawn's deal turned catastrophic. Accusations against Harry flew all night but I'm sure he's not involved in this mess. Ellis is a bastard, I know he's the one behind all this fuck up, undoubtedly. I could have killed MacNair with my bare hands. He's grown far too confident and I refuse to allow these men to doubt my authority and I can't let the gang doubt my authority… I won't let anyone harm Harry. I have to keep him from our businesses at all cost, if only to spare him._

_June 1, 2004_

_Crabbe and most of our guys are dead. Flint confessed. It all makes sense now. There is no alternative. I have to get rid of him. I can't believe it was him all this time. I guess Lucius was right. Leadership is a lonely and bitter road. Harry mustn't know what's happened. Ever. He wouldn't understand. I'm a nervous wreck. I try to put on a strong front but this treason is a tough blow. I have to hit hard._

_June 4, 2004_

_Harry left today. I knew it would end this way… Of course, he is not cut out for this. I don't know how I allowed myself to think it could be any other way. I'll just take it all in my stride and keep going, like I always do. Time will do its work. I need to be more solid than that. Was Astoria's lesson not enough? I'm waiting for Dennis' report. I have to make sure Harry won't do anything stupid. He can be so rash, and considering his mental state, I had better be careful. I feel as though I have lost something big. No, I will be alright…If I could just keep him out of my head._

_June 5, 2004_

_The tailing gave what I expected. Harry was approached by an unidentified man. The car's plates didn't give anything. The drive lasted a while. I don't like it at all. If Division 8 is involved, they must have spotted him with the group and attempted to rally him to their cause. A first contact then. I don't want to consider the other options. I prefer to believe Harry has nothing to do with these dogs. I hope I won't have to intervene._

_June 6, 2004_

_Lucius is back from hell. He offered me a deal: a real enterprise, contacts all over Europe... Difficult to refuse. He's thought it all out and that's what scares me. I can't resolve to work with him again. I have to be on the look-out at all times. Good thing Harry is around again. Something has been broken between us, but I am determined to win him back. It has been a tough few days and it kills me to admit it, but I'm not sure I can go on without him._

Other considerations about the new group, reports about different meetings. Words less and less bitter through the dates… His relief to be able to rely on his father's help. Harry felt sick. He had the impression of looking at the film of their life, some drama whose ending he already knew. As he was going through he last pages, reading the happiness behind Draco's words, he wanted to stop the course of time, to close the book and say: "There, that's how it ends," but he couldn't.

_June 26, 2004_

_Harry is finally mine. Body and soul. As I had planned, Montague made him madly jealous. There is no doubt in my mind: he fully supports me and his feelings are true. I am aware I don't deserve his love, and it pains me not to be able to offer him a better life, somewhere safe without these vultures around us. He is the only one that matters to me now. I am finally allowed some happiness._

Such intense impressions and feelings… these words were upsetting Harry deeply. So many things had escaped him. He hadn't realized the turmoil his appearance had provoked within the blonde. The words traduced Draco's uncertainties, his weaknesses. It was entirely too hard to bear in the light of the recent events. All their hopes and dreams had come crashing down at their feet, through Harry's own fault. Draco was dead. Harry had killed him; Harry and no one else. Draco had placed his trust and love in him but Harry had betrayed all that, and Draco had returned the favour.

The duel had ended without any winner. They both died that day.

He couldn't keep on reading. It was too much to take. His head was hurting. A searing pain. He brought his hand against his ear. Snape frowned and asked, "Are you alright?"

But Harry didn't answer. His breathing was laboured and his vision wavered. His ears were ringing as if blocked, and then darkness engulfed him again.

When he awoke, he was shaking and sweating profusely. He darted his eyes around him, his body felt cold, the surface hard beneath him, but his head was resting against a soft fabric. With his hands, he reached behind his head and felt the delicate velvet, the smoothness of the foam rubber. A small cushion. He couldn't regain his bearings, or remember the last few minutes. Then Snape came into view, a glass of water in his hand.

Harry lifted his head, regretting the move immediately, feeling dizzy and weak. He felt Snape's hand on his nape and the simple touch felt strange. It was so kind and intimate. He was glad he couldn't look at the man right now. He felt the glass on his lips and opened his mouth to take a sip. Letting out a breath he asked: "What happened?"

Snape pointed at Harry's head with his finger. "Your head wound. Idiot boy, you should be in the hospital now."

Well, that was the Snape he knew…

Harry touched the stitch points in the back of his skull and explained,

"I was, but I had to get out. McCarthy would have held me captive. I escaped his custody, but he'll track me. I need to hide for a while. If he finds me, he won't ever let me go." He grimaced with pain and massaged his neck. "He said he had 'plans' for me, but there's no way I'll let him control me this time. The Division can go to hell! I'm tired of their blackmail."

Snape sat on a chair, his hand gripping the wooden table's edge, visibly preoccupied. "Harry, I don't know what McCarthy told you, but he lied to you," he said in a monotone. "He's no longer part of Division 8."

Harry stared at Snape as if he had spoken in another language.

"What?" He straightened and pushed himself backwards until he was flush against the wall. "I… no, I…." His eyes swept left and right. "I saw the files, I saw his guys! McCarthy's working for the Division, I know it!"

Snape sighed and began to explain, "He has still ties with the Division and he knows his way around, but I carried out my investigation and with the help of old contacts, I traced his path. His expulsion had never been official, they hushed up the scandal. After Lucius' fiasco, there had been too many hitches. They had to get rid of him."

"But I saw his badge…" continued Harry, still stunned.

"McCarthy's over, but he does them services once in a while. He delivers them fugitives, and in exchange, they close their eyes to his personal affairs. The man has his ways, but he's not covered by the Division anymore. He has no weight on their decisions."

"Since when?" Harry ran a hand over his face. He gathered the facts. What had he missed, what were the signs, the lies? When did it all begin? He sighed, his eyes lingering on the floor, then he uttered: "The Division, they've got Remus you see…. He was arrested in January. McCarthy promised me they had transferred him to a safe unit… But who's to say that's not a lie as well! I… I don't know any more!"

"Remus…" The name escaped Snape's mouth in a whisper. Harry's eyes snapped to Snape's. The man in black sat across the table, in front of him. "Harry, Remus didn't get caught until a month ago."

Harry lifted his head in a dazed state.

"No, he was with me. McCarthy said…" His lips opened but no words came out. Flashes of his arrest came flooding back to his mind: Remus' anxiety attack, his empty bed in the morning. McCarthy in front of his door. His own shouts: "Where is he? What did you do to Remus?" No trace of his friend.

He had never seen Remus being taken away. He had trusted McCarthy's words.

Remus had been restless for weeks, saying he was endangering Harry's life. Of course… Now it all made sense. Remus had left, thinking it was the best solution for Harry. McCarthy had quickly assessed the situation and made up a story to blackmail Harry.

Harry's eyes were blank, fogged by the memories, as Snape went on, "And there's nothing McCarthy can do about it."

Harry felt drained. He couldn't have been fooled again. It all had been for nothing. All these betrayals, these massacres, it was just hot air.

"How?" croaked Harry. "How do you know all this? This is… this is top secret information! What's going on? What are you still holding from me?" he said with narrowed eyes, leaning on the wall in a suspicious manner.

Snape showed no uneasiness. He joined his hands on the table and began, "I told you McCarthy blackmailed me too." He paused, eyes intent, and finally confessed without shame, "I've been working for the Division."

His declaration was welcomed by an incredulous gape, but Snape kept a placid stare. "I was interned in their first center here. Several werewolves revealed that I was one of the few able to make the Wolfsbane potion. The Division deduced I possessed a first hand knowledge about their condition. They ascribed competences to me that I didn't have. I told them I wouldn't help them, but evidently, it wasn't the answer they were hoping for. They killed several prisoners before my eyes and blamed me for their sacrifice. I was merely a tool in their hands. I had to obey. I tried to help, but they showed no pity. We're not men to them, we're human guinea pigs."

Harry had a horrified scowl but Snape showed little emotion.

"I am guilty of nothing. I took no part in their tortures, and when they realized I was no use to them, they let me go. My role was confidential but I'm still on their files. Moreover, they contact me sometimes."

"They asked you about Remus…" Harry whispered, his voice hardly audible.

"Yes. "

"What did you tell them," asked Harry, inquisitive.

"Nothing they didn't already know. That he was posing no danger, that he had endured severe trauma and that it was premature to make him go through new tests." Harry lifted his head, a ray of hope flashing through his green irises. A hope Snape broke instantly. "But they never listen."

Harry's head dropped back against the wall, his eyes facing the ceiling.

"That's heavy…" he mused. "So that's what McCarthy's got on you…"

Snape nodded. "He threatened to reveal my involvement. No one knew about me and McCarthy would have taken great pleasure in outing me. I couldn't take that risk. Draco wouldn't have forgiven me. I betrayed our people; I collaborated with the enemy."

Snape's words rang familiar to Harry. Indeed, Draco wouldn't have accepted the truth. Treason was the worst sin in a gang's life.

"So I searched for a way to double cross McCarthy. I asked every contact I had, looked through Draco's documents. That's how I found out he had been thrown on the scrapheap. But that's not all. They erased him from their database, it's like he doesn't even exist anymore."

Harry shook his head and massaged his temple. Anger flared inside him.

Secrets again. The truth was always hidden from him. He had thought he was the one lying but they all were. It was just a big fool's game, and McCarthy had played them once more.

A strange smile grew on Harry's lips as he shook his head. He chuckled and his face disappeared between his hands. His shoulders started to shake and a muffled laughter rose in the room to the bemusement of Snape. It took a few seconds for him to understand that what he took for giggles were in fact heavy sobs.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Hurried steps on a zebra crossing. Red light. A honk. The steps accelerated. A phone booth. The door swing, a few coins in the slot, fingers dialing. He knew it by heart. The forbidden number.

"McCarthy."

A harsh breathing. Harry could recognize it, his eyes closed.

The voice instantly enraged, _"Where are you? And what possessed you to call me on this number!"_

Harry attacked, "I don't give a shit about your fucking rules. I know all about you."

A sneer on the other end of the line. _"Please Potter, don't make me laugh."_

This only fueled Harry's anger more. "I know you don't have a say in the Division's decisions any more! You're a pariah, a ghost agent!"

The hissing voice, _"You don't know what you're talking about."_

Harry refused to be intimidated and kept on.

"You have no authority! How could have I fallen for your bullshit! Remus is dead, I know it!"

_"Oh no, I assure you he's alive."_

"Yeah. Well if that's the case, there's nothing you can possibly do for him! It's over, everything's over! There's no more deal. And if you want to kill me, then go ahead! I'm waiting for you with open arms!" Harry yelled into the receiver, trembling with anger. "I have nothing to lose anymore! So you can shove your sick plans up your ass and find another mug for your shitty affairs."

_"Potter…."_

Harry violently hung up, hitting the receiver on its cradle with force and banging the cabin door on his way out.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Later, that evening, back in his suddenly very sinister apartment, Harry lay in bed, the blue notebook in his hands. He was tired and his eyes were burning, but he kept reading anyway.

_July 31, 2004_

_Those idiot Weasleys turned up at the club. I can thank Lucius for the lovely attention. Does he really think I will fall for his twisted plans? He doesn't get that Harry is not another fuck. The obstacles Lucius puts in my way only strengthen our relationship. I now will protect Harry till the end._

_August 20, 2004_

_Berlin is a cold and boring city. Or maybe it is Harry's absence that turned me so melancholic these last days. In any case, business is going well, with the exception of the Schuller gang who gives us some difficulties. Montague's more optimistic than me, he thinks they will yield soon. He shows great strength and determination. Lucius knew what he was doing when he hired the guy. He's one cocky bastard, but he knows the job. We're making a pretty good team._

_September 11, 2004_

_Harry's insinuations stuck with me all night. I thought he would have more confidence in me but I was obviously wrong. I don't like the way he calls my word into question, asking me to account for every little thing I do. Past is in the past. We both made mistakes, there is nothing more to say. And now, I fear he will throw himself at MacNair for the sake of revenge… Can't believe this bastard had the nerve to make a move on Harry. I called him and gave him an earful. If he touches one hair on his head, I'll make him swallow his family jewels. Harry is so impulsive, and so far from me. Only one month left._

From there, blank pages. Nothing more.

After the Berlin blood bath, the events had surely been too chaotic for him to continue his prose.

Harry wanted more.

These white pages were a fateful reminder of Draco's death. Draco wouldn't write anything else. His last words were troubled and uncertain, left in suspension. Harry flipped each page in the hope of a sequel, a last addition, a final word which would bring some closure; but even then, he knew nothing would do.

He threw the notebook on the floor with rage and scratched his head. The pain was still there, persistent.

He opened the drawer of his bedside table and looked at a little bottle of pills. He grabbed it and shook it lightly, looking at the white drops clanking together. He uncapped the bottle and swallowed two pills without water. A muscle relaxant. The effect was immediate and soon he was appeased. He looked at the blue notebook lying open near the wall and chided himself.

_What are you doing…?_

He threw off the sheets and crawled on the carpet, preciously gathering the notebook in his hands and dusting it lightly. He held it close to his heart, stroking the cover with his fingers. It was all that remained now. He ensconced the notebook back in the drawer, right next to his meds, and sank underneath his sheets. He was soon carried away by dreams filled with his blonde lover, Draco's name crossing his lips more than once in his sleep.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**March 22, 2005**

Winter had passed in a blur of cold and loneliness.

A new house in the North West of Surrey. They went there for the big occasions. The place was less cosy than the hideouts they had during Draco's reign. To Harry's eyes, it was a pale imitation of the Reading Property. But those days were over. There was a new sheriff in town.

Harry descended the lavish staircase with sloppy steps, black suit, white shirt, crisp black tie and all. He slid his finger beneath the starched collar and sighed. The outfit felt like a costume, but he was getting used to it by now. He entered the big living-room, the guests reunited around cocktails and petits fours, wearing best attire, smiles plastered on their faces.

They were celebrating their new association with the Mannings, a rich and influential family who they had coveted for months. They had put on an extravagant spread for the function: expansive tables, embroidered tablecloths and chandeliers, flowers in crystal vases, waiters in uniform. A refined style.

Harry walked like an automaton, accustomed to this kind of gathering. Some guests acknowledged him in passing. He was part of the furniture now. He strode across the room with his usual nonchalance, his mind already miles away.

He spotted the man of the evening in front of one of the long richly decorated tables and snatched a glass of rosé from a passing tray before coming close. MacNair turned around, grabbed him by the waist and claimed his lips with voraciousness. Harry was pliant in his arms.

MacNair's ruggedness didn't surprise him anymore. They had been lovers for the past three months. The man was rarely gentle with him; even his tender gestures were brusque. MacNair liked to assert his domination in all things. His rough hands pressed against the small of Harry's back, possessive.

The sensation wasn't unpleasant. Harry felt numb, indifferent to this circus. He didn't even notice when Greyback joined them. The coke he'd railed earlier had bucked him up for the day. It was all that kept him going.

The addiction was easy to pick back up. From the first week of his new mission, he had known he wouldn't make it without help. He found his way back to a seedy nightclub in Soho. Like every other time he'd visited such an establishment, he spotted the cokeheads and the dealers right away. Like radar, it never failed. The first fix had felt like coming home. And just like that, he had plunged himself back in.

Was it just a yearning to empty his head, or was he trying to punish himself somehow? It didn't matter. He needed this boost for the job. But he knew addiction, and it was bad. Now, the craving had become regular. He shot up twice a day, back to his old habits... Hadn't he once sworn he'd never touch these drugs again? He didn't dare imagine the reactions of Ron and his family if they were to become aware of it… He had been in a deplorable state when they had found him, years before, and he was travelling quickly down the same road over again. He could feel the effects of withdrawal when he hadn't had a hit yet that day**. **He was conscious of it, but he no longer cared. While he was crumbling inside, drugs gave him the illusion it was alright. He knew that at this stage, he wouldn't hold on long, but what could he possibly hold on to anyway? Perhaps he would fall, perhaps he would let himself waste away. Maybe then, he would finally be free.

It was all nothing but an immense indistinct blur. Noises, tips, dreams, schemes, caresses, murders, nightmares. This was his new life.

Harry tried to concentrate on the good things: the music was nice, the room was beautiful. The Elders would be occupied for the whole evening and MacNair would surely be too tired to do anything later in the night.

His new lover was aware of his "disease" of course. Harry had first refused to go through him to get his fix, but MacNair was not blind. He had quickly noticed Harry's growing addiction and had taken great pleasure in encouraging him down this dangerous path. Harry was much better company when he let himself go, so he allowed himself to wallow in a semi conscious state. Both were getting something out of it.

MacNair let his hands wander across Harry's bum and squeezed playfully, his adventurous tongue mapping the shell of the brunet's ear. Harry was impervious to his gestures, his mind slowly drifting away.

"You look ravishing… I made a good choice," MacNair said with his dark voice, sliding his finger down the suit's lapel.

Harry offered him his usual smile, the one he displayed when he had to act as the perfect lover. This expression came naturally to him now. Greyback leered at him, an amused glint in his eyes. Once in a while, Harry had to put up with the man's forthright flirting, but MacNair had established his authority over the group and over him, and Greyback never overstepped his boundaries. Harry was MacNair's favourite. No one else could touch him.

After Harry's desperate phone call, six months before, McCarthy had found Harry swiftly. He wanted to bring down the last survivors of the gang. Draco and his father had ruined his career and he had sworn to himself he would break up every last link in the chain. He wouldn't settle for a set-aside, only a complete and total victory would satisfy him. Division or not, McCarthy was powerful. He had contacts, he could pull some strings. More dangerous than the system, he didn't obey any rules; and he was insane.

As Harry had predicted it, he had used the Weasleys as a way of pressure. And at that moment, Harry knew he would never escape this vicious circle. There would always be someone to threaten, someone dear to him that McCarthy would use to blackmail him. Harry was between the hands of a maniac who would go all the way to destroy the last bastion of the Organization. If Harry was honest with himself, he would admit he didn't particularly care about his own life anymore. The only reason he had agreed to this job was to keep the ones he loved safe.

McCarthy had taken Harry away to one of his hideouts, put together a dossier and staged a trial. Following the seizure of a hundred of blood beans, scavenged from the rubble of the X-Stacy, Harry had been "arrested" for narcotics trafficking. Conveniently, during his trial, a procedural defect had been identified, and Harry was released immediately. What a joke…

Then Harry had been sent to the nightlife again. The goal was to immerse himself back into the seedy clubs and the dirty deals, an attempt to lend more credibility to his transition before returning to the Elders when they resurfaced. McCarthy's bet was that the Elders hadn't been clued up about Harry's double game while they were abroad. It all had happened too fast and Lucius had certainly not foreseen his dreadful end.

So Harry had hung about in their usual places but he had come home empty-handed. They definitely had changed scenes. Then their luck turned: a tip sent McCarthy to a bar where MacNair had been seen frequently. After a few weeks, he had finally showed up and it was with no trouble that Harry had caught him in his web. Apparently, the man's previous advances hadn't been motivated by Lucius' incentives alone. MacNair had confessed a strong attraction for him, but Harry suspected the man also took pleasure showing off Draco's former lover akin to a trophy. And just like that, MacNair had taken him under his wing. Barely a week later, Harry was sharing his bed. Soon, he was spending almost all his nights with him.

Harry emptied his drink and mingled with women who giggled and smiled until their jaws hurt, and men who stirred each other up with puffed out chests. Between slaps on the back and sideways smiles, he wandered aimlessly across the room. Known as MacNair's pretty accessory, he had to bear their hypocritical faces, their glances and polite handshakes. A true viper's nest.

While wandering among the guests, Harry met Adams, the dealer who had once provoked heated discussions between MacNair and Draco. It seemed MacNair had finally got what he wanted.

After Draco's demise, the aspiring successors had been fewer than expected. There had been too many jarring notes, too many deaths, and they feared the cursed throne. But MacNair was a different breed. When he heard the news, he had showed no hesitation and took the first flight back to London, on the heels of his own recent success in Ireland. Along with his henchmen, he was the last representative of the late Organization, but he had withdrawn quickly from this affiliation. His ambition was and always had been to take the lead and become the only commander in charge. A strong and radical force. That was how "The League" was born, a new gang that had gathered, not without shame, the different contacts and deals that had been settled with the Organization to re-inject them into MacNair's new empire. The kingdom was his now.

When Harry had arrived, the machine was already well oiled. McNair had taken on his new role with ease. He was born to lead. He was more imposing than Draco, and most of all, more dangerous than his predecessor. He had already made a name for himself. From the beginning, the League had eliminated the undesirables: the weak, the half-hearted followers and the threatening ones. What they lacked in subtlety, they made up for in effectiveness. Violence was their only language. Exit Draco's wit and charm; MacNair was all brute force and intimidation. He had managed to impose himself nonetheless.

Adams wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders and mocked, "My dear Harry, where's your master?"

The man took the liberty of patting his shoulder in the most condescending way. And he thought he could get away with it?

In a moment like that, Harry felt only emptiness. He couldn't hear his heart beat. After Draco, everything had frozen. No desire, no joy. Was his heart still there? He couldn't say. He hadn't felt alive for so long.

Harry spurned Adams, slapping his hand away, the movement clumsy but efficient. He might be immune to their mind games, but he wasn't going to let himself be insulted.

"I'm not a dog and I take orders from no one; but if you want MacNair, he's waiting for you to kiss his ass over there," he bit out in a breath.

Adams' lips thinned into a tight line, and Harry took a brief satisfaction in seeing him lose face. The man stiffly stepped away, leaving Harry on his own. The brunet was about to zone out again, eyes lost in the crowd.

Then suddenly, a whisper in his ear, "That was rude. Who taught you to talk with such a dirty mouth?"

Harry had barely heard the words, carried away by his irritation and the drugs fogging his mind. He turned around and everything faded away.

Draco was there, in front of him, as beautiful and dashing as in his memories.

_An apparition. Only an apparition, right?_

"Did you miss me, baby?" Draco said with a slurring voice.

That voice he had dreamt about, night after night.

But what was that noise in his ears, so close… this insistent tom-tom?

_Oh yes, my heart. It's beating still._


	22. A New Order

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing MsLefay. Thank you for your rapidity!

A/N: I know... I know... I'm a bit late again, but next chapter is already half-done so, I won't make any promise this time, but I'll try my best to finish it quickly.

Also, I already mentioned it in the warnings, and considering the last chapter, you should be prepared for this, but just to make sure, I have to warn you that Harry's drug addiction will take an important place in the next chapters. My intention is not to shock you (well, not too much anyway), but addiction is a theme I wanted to explore.

Now on with the story...

* * *

**CHAPTER 21 : A NEW ORDER**

Harry was in shock. Draco was right in front of him, his grey eyes more piercing than ever, his grin in its customary place, shiny blond strands framing his face. He couldn't believe his eyes. It had to be a dream. Yes, this was all just a dream, and in actuality he was standing here, gaping at nothing. But then Adams raised his hand to greet Draco, making this mirage reality.

Harry was barely conscious of what was happening. He had finished his mourning; he hadn't forgotten, no, but he had finally accepted Draco's death. And now that he was firmly in MacNair's hands, fate had struck again and Draco was back from the dead. Harry closed his eyes tight for a few seconds then brought his gaze back to the blond angel. He was really here. How was it possible? He had died with the others, that day in the fire.

People suddenly gravitated towards Draco, patting his back and giving hypocritical smiles. Guests welcomed him as if the reappearance of this former legend came as no surprise. Even the ones who had criticized him in his absence were all over him. Draco answered politely, with great composure. He had a word with everyone. It looked like the last six months –

_Where? In exile? Hiding? On another continent? Or maybe someone up there ha__s taken pity on me and sent him back to Earth?_

– had changed him. There were no more traces of the melancholia and darkness that had dominated him during the last days they'd spent together.

Harry wanted to know everything. He needed an explanation; there were so many questions, so many things he had to say. The preceding months had thrown him into a thick fog, but a ray of light was finally shinning through; Draco was alive! He had a second chance, they could start over again.

Harry didn't even notice that Adams had left him to join MacNair, when Draco came to stand facing him. Harry followed each of his gestures with his eyes, as if Draco were a strange and unknown creature. The blonde turned his head to consider the assembly about them. He took a gulp of wine; his eyes still riveted on the guests and leaned over the brunet's shoulder. "You and your friends were so sure you'd eliminated me…" he whispered into his ear, "You knew they were coming to shoot us all down, didn't you? Well, sorry to disappoint, I'm not that easy to get rid of."

He lifted up his head slowly, leaving Harry stunned. His acidic voice had brought the brunet back to Earth. Harry looked ahead, shaking his head slightly. He felt like someone was playing tricks on him. So that was how it was going to be? Draco was back to seek revenge. He would never forgive him, he would never trust him again.

The guests were talking around them, but they all disappeared in the midst of the tornado that had just assailed him, turning his world upside down. Harry felt like he was underwater, far away from what was happening yet at the same time acutely aware of each noise; the voices suddenly too loud around him, Draco's eyes too intense, his skin on fire. Possibly the drugs… but no, nothing could ever come close to this sensation. Harry tried to calm down and collect himself. These past months had proven the strength of his feelings toward the blonde. He had mourned his lover, the one he had sacrificed, a victim of the Division's manipulations. He had cherished the memories of their love affair and the image of his loving Draco; but now, back in cruel reality, the phantasm had vanished and left in its place the cold, vindictive man before him. The man who had sold him out to Lucius after he had confessed all, risking everything for him.

"If I remember correctly, Lucius and you had planned the same fate for me," he hissed back, "Surprise, you've lost too!"

Draco looked him straight in the eye and suddenly chuckled. The detachment he was displaying made Harry cringe. This was not a joke. Then the blonde turned around to greet one of his acquaintances, before ushering cheekily over his shoulder, "The game's not over yet".

At that moment, Harry thanked the drugs for the remoteness they offered him, as little comfort as it was. He perceived the scene through a maze, his nerves were raw and he was coming down already. MacNair, his new lover, and his gang were in the same room as Draco, former lover and holder of a secret that could destroy everything. Harry felt trapped. It would only take one word from Draco for his world to collapse once more. He would be lynched. Was that the reason Draco had made his return in the middle of the festivities? To publicly denounce him? After six months without news, he must have planned something big. He had surely nurtured his rage, his resentment growing with the months, and now, he was out for his head.

Harry longed for a line, a shot, anything to go back into oblivion.

He began to rub his temple, hoping he wouldn't have a seizure this time. He made his way to the table of appetizers in an attempt to gather his thoughts and distance himself from Draco and the gang. In his condition, he didn't have any fight left. He grabbed a glass of pinot noir, gulped it down and took another one. A soft fuzziness bubbled inside him but it was hardly enough. His hand disappeared into his pocket coming out again grasping a flash of red. A blood bean. It was still selling well in private circles and nightclubs. Harry always had some with him lest he need a pick-me-up. Lately, it was a constant occurrence. He was about to swallow the pill when Draco interrupted him again. It was obvious the blonde wasn't ready to let him go.

Draco was leaning against the table helping himself to the canapés. He seemed so carefree. Shouldn't he fear for his safety? He wasn't on his own territory any more. And the division were so close… Why then was Harry the one feeling out of place, the walls closing in on him, the stares around him oddly threatening.

Draco grabbed the glass from Harry's hand and drank it before Harry had time to wet his lips. Then he taunted, "So, you and MacNair? I guess his advances back then didn't disgust you as much as you claimed. You can tell me now… You've always fancied him..."

Harry grimaced, but Draco kept taunting him. "I guess Lucius was right about you…" he said, cocking his head "Must admit you played your cards close to your chest."

He let out a sigh and drew his face closer to the brunet.

"My, my… Harry Potter, who are you?"

His insinuations, the way he was leering at him, toying with his nerves… Harry was a shivering mass.

"Shut up" he retorted between his teeth, frustrated not to be able to raise his voice. "You don't know anything."

He was on edge, his eyes darting over the room left and right to assure himself no one was paying them attention.

Harry couldn't confess to Draco what he had endured. It was not the time, nor the place. Draco was clearly out for revenge, who knew how he would react, especially with MacNair and his men around. It would not take much for the whole situation to turn ugly.

"Calm down, you're awfully touchy," mocked Draco with a smile. "Is that the effect of living with these savages? Now that I think about it, you don't look so good."

Draco wasn't wrong. Since he'd turned back to drugs, Harry had lost quite a few pounds. His face was emaciated and paler than ever.

"Can't blame you. I wouldn't fuck MacNair for the world… By the way, I've always wondered, how is he in the sack?"

Harry tightened his lips, trying to block out the words. Draco was obviously trying to push him to the edge, but he would not give him the pleasure.

"Hm… that bad?" Draco teased, fixing his eyes, his face coming ever closer. Harry kept averting his gaze but Draco's scrutiny was boring into him.

"The things we do for the job…" the blonde drawled.

Harry didn't care about his remarks. Draco could deride him as much as he wanted. If this was the way things were going to be, then so be it.

"Do what you have to do," he whispered, resigned. "Go tell them." He tilted his head toward the couch where MacNair and the Lestranges were conversing. "Go! Tell them how I betrayed you, tell them I'm a mole."

Tremors coursed through his body while he glared, wide-eyed, at the blonde. Draco didn't say a word, he looked at him like a curious animal, and his nonchalance got the better of Harry. He burst out, his voice thundering, "Go ahead, I'm ready!"

Their little commotion caught the attention of the couples around them and curious stares arose in their direction. Draco ignored them with the same indifference he had showed from the beginning. Harry ran a hand through his hair, cursing himself for his impulsive temper. Draco hadn't lost his touch; he knew just how to drive him crazy.

Harry lowered his eyes when Draco brushed his shoulder, so close to him.

"Potter, I thought you'd know me better by now. I know what I have to do, and I have no intention of rushing this."

He licked his lips then, his mouth so tempting Harry couldn't tear his eyes away.

"There is pleasure in the waiting… the anticipation…" he murmured, his voice slipping like velvet into Harry's ears. "Not knowing what the next move will be...what's coming for you "

Draco's eyes were so heavy on him, his body so close, Harry had to step back, but the blonde wouldn't let him get away, and with each step away from him, he closed the distance in a strange tango.

"But you've always liked it bold, hm, right down to business, huh?"

Draco took another step, pushing Harry in retreat, successfully cornering him against the table.

"Come on… Let me have some fun."

Harry's eyes glazed while his mind blanked out. He didn't know where he was anymore; there were nothing else but this devilish voice and these sinful lips. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to voice something, anything, if only his brain would cooperate. He unconsciously leaned toward Draco, his entire body drawn to him as if it were a magnet, his face completely open and vulnerable.

Then, Draco straightened up altogether, cold and arrogant once more. An attempt to unsettle him again, was all it was.

Harry bit his lip. "You're a real bastard," he whispered.

As soon as the words left his lips, an arm came around his waist. The musky scent, the weight against his back, the pressure of the fingers tightening on his skin. MacNair of course.

The long-awaited confrontation.

Harry stiffened. It was not how he had planned Draco's miraculous return, far from it. He had envisioned a romantic reunion, soft sheets, loving eyes, a torrid night with breathless words whispered into the nook of his neck, not this nervous exchange full of resentment, this impromptu apparition on the Elders' territory, and especially not with a fuming MacNair between them.

"Draco," the low voice intoned with feigned cheerfulness, "I was wondering when you would grace us with your presence."

Harry's head spun around, confusion marring its features.

_He already knew? _

"My men heard about your little business. You hid it well, my friend. We had a hell of a lot of trouble making the connection with you, but nothing resists me long."

Draco looked at him as though they had never been apart. "You know me, all finesse. Brute force is not my style."

Behind his words, a thinly veiled gibe: Draco didn't approve MacNair's methods. Over time, Harry had learnt that both men were nothing alike. MacNair leapt before looking, impatient, impulsive and rough. Draco had made mistakes, but he had built his empire with his wits and his patience. Their face-off should be interesting.

MacNair moulded his body against Harry's, his chin brushing the dark and wild locks, then he began caressing his nape with a coarse palm. Usually, the man was never this demonstrative when they received guests, this was all for Draco's benefit. The manoeuvre was little subtle: he wanted to show Draco who Harry belonged to and rub it in his face.

Harry hated to be in the middle of a settling of scores. A cockfight. As much as he didn't mind playing MacNair's decorative accessory in front of strangers, with Draco, MacNair's display filled him with shame and anger. He knew the picture they made, he with his expensive suit, MacNair grinning above him, his hands holding him tight. And he didn't want the blonde to judge him; though after their discussion, he knew it was probably too late.

Which ever way, the humiliation was bitter. He was standing there, like an object in MacNair's hands, a well behaved pet. Harry had to mentally fortify himself not to wrench away.

"Things have changed," MacNair said, his voice sharper than necessary. "You know how it goes... Someone had to take over and organise the mess you left."

A tight smile adorned Draco's lips. "Looks like you didn't waste time," he said.

Were they talking about business or about Harry? In the end, it probably boiled down to the same thing for them.

"I saw an opportunity and I took it," MacNair added with a shrug. "It's a ruthless business, it's no place for the weak."

Draco didn't take the bait. He just tilted his head, holding his gaze with fierce eyes.

The weight of MacNair's hand on Harry's shoulder became oppressing, burning through his clothes, and Harry couldn't manage to relax. Relief was within hand's reach, literally; in his pocket, rolling between his fingers, the blood bean. He fiddled with it nervously to the point he felt the thin layer begin dissolving under his fingers. He used to be able to handle the pressure, but now it seemed he couldn't endure it without his daily dose. It was his oxygen, his life force. But he had to wait. From the way the two former associates were sizing each other up, they had much still to discuss.

That was confirmed with MacNair's next words.

"Come and join us, we have time to catch up, and lovely girls... and guys if you prefer."

Harry trailed behind the two men, reluctantly heading to a large upholstered chaise longue. The Lestranges were there too. The two brothers were as discrete as ever, but their "promotion" had revealed an insatiable thirst for power. Harry observed them each passing day. They seemed to speak to each other without having to open their mouths, protecting each other's interests. They turned out to be fierce negotiators. Who would have suspected those two followers were as ambitious and greedy as their boss? Their discretion was their weapon. They weren't to be trusted.

Draco sat on a chair head on to the group while MacNair slouched in the center of the couch. The man made room for Harry to settle on his right, out of Draco's reach. Alcohol arrived and loosened their tongues. MacNair discussed his new acquisitions with an undisguised pleasure, drawing attention to the masterpieces on the walls, introducing his underlings. He was aware Draco had lost his prestige; therefore he was taking advantage of his new position to brag about the extent of his ascension. It was petty, yes, but then again, MacNair was a heavy-hitter and had no concern for the others' sentiments. Yet, he made sure not to cross the line, talking to Draco respectfully. Who knew what Draco was capable of? His reappearance was still tinged with mystery. Keep your enemies close...

The conversation turned to the League's successes, MacNair gloating about his latest achievements although he could have never done it without Draco and the Organization paving the way. Indeed he had nerve.

Harry observed his gestures, the manner he spoke, so blatantly fake. Next to him, Draco shone with elegance. He remained true to himself, very dignified, the perfect guest, laughing at the banal jokes of his former henchman, smiling and congratulating him when needed.

The two men looked like old friends, sharing stories and memories. Yet no one was fooled. Draco couldn't accept the League. They had appropriated his contracts, the allies Draco and his father had garnered, and last but not least, MacNair had managed to get Harry in his bed. The man had usurped his position, and all were anxious to see his reactions. They knew Draco, he wouldn't grovel in front of them. Everyone was waiting for the break point.

"... so you patched it up with old Tamblin. And what about Sammy? I thought he'd gone back to the States," MacNair continued, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"Hm, I just called a few faithful friends; proposed a new association. They liked the idea and came to join me. It happened naturally."

"You made a nice coup with the Italians."

"I've always been in Capellis' good books." Draco smiled then, his eyes malicious. "Don't worry, I'm not treading on your toes."

MacNair showed his teeth in turn. "I'm not worried, I know that perfectly well." He sunk back into the cushions, spreading one arm along the couch back, encaging Harry in the motion. "It surprised me to tell you the truth. I thought you had more ambition."

"I decided to reconsider my options," Draco retorted, glass in hand. "I don't need to be at the head of an empire to feel powerful. I know who I am and what I'm worth. You see, I thought about Zabini, Nott, Pansy. I remembered when we started out... the first contacts, the first deals, the way we double-crossed the established dealers and bamboozled the clients, and how much I liked that. The rush of adrenaline. No pressure, small scale operations, just enough to keep us going for a while." He shook his head and let out a deep breath. "This matter of expansion, this international organization... it's not for me."

He took a sip of alcohol and shrugged in all modesty.

"I'm making my little niche with what I've got, and I don't intend to break anything down on my way. That's not to say I'm softening, believe me, I already have nice trophies on my wall."

MacNair considered him, appraising his opponent. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he clinked his glass against the blonde's.

"To new beginnings then!"

Draco drank again, then after a moment of silence, his eyes slowly swept to Harry's, catching the brunet's breath. Draco repositioned himself on the couch as if ready to draw his knives.

"So Harry, what about you? I see you quickly found a new bed to warm?"

The question was purposely vicious, and it stung, just like it was meant to. What could Harry answer with the brute at his other side anyway? But MacNair saved him the trouble, putting his hand on his thigh and running it up and down, his gesture unequivocal.

"Who would have thought? Our little Harry is a fine opportunist," the man chuckled. "He knows where the winners are and he likes expensive things. I think he got used to the privileges of our rank. Here, he has everything he wants... and he has nothing to complain about what happens under the sheets either."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek at that. Count on MacNair to pour oil on the fire. The man advanced his head to Harry's, his slicked-back hair sliding against his cheek; the chemical smell invaded Harry's nostrils, though he refrained from showing disgust, then MacNair leaned over him to bite his neck. Harry let him, still and apathetic, his caresses numbing him. Draco was in front of them but Harry could do nothing, not push MacNair away, nor deny his words. He couldn't see Draco's reaction and he was at least thankful for that.

He felt hollow, his free will ripped out from inside, and his defeated stance and lowered eyes told that much. It wasn't MacNair he wanted to feel against his skin.

MacNair enjoyed this thorny situation and reveled in his domineering position. He interrupted himself deliberately and lifted his eyes toward Draco who was regarding the couple without emotion. Adopting a mock apologetic expression, he straightened up.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, I forgot you two had a history."

Draco's famous sneer stretched his lips but his eyes stayed cold.

"Please," he drawled nonchalantly, "he was a great lay, we had our fun, but I'm not interested in anyone's seconds. If that's your thing, good for you, and by all means, enjoy yourself!"

Harry perceived no inflection in his voice, no sign betraying his duplicity. No, Draco's words seemed truthful.

He wondered how many times a heart could break.

His desperation brought an incongruous smile to his face. It was laughable really; his life was so fucked up. Without a care for his surroundings, he swigged his champagne and popped his blood bean, swallowing in a gulp. His eyes swept over Draco in a flash, but this time, he felt nothing but the warmth enveloping him, the strange sensation in his stomach, his body all at once lighter. Soon, he didn't mind MacNair's mouth anymore, it actually felt good and he leaned into the caress with a peaceful smile. Lights were brighter, everything was brighter now.

MacNair smiled knowingly when he felt Harry rubbing his side against him. He gave a last nip to Harry's neck before turning away and taking a small wooden case out of his pocket. He grabbed two chunky cigars from it and offered one to Draco, before leaving the box on the table. The blonde nodded and leaned forward to take one. He seemed to hesitate briefly, his eyes lingering on Harry's languid body, troubled. But the moment passed and he soon regained his composure, reclining on the seat, the cigar carelessly hanging by the tips of his fingers.

Harry had seen nothing of this, his eyes entranced by the sight of MacNair's teeth ripping the Havana's head. He couldn't take his vision from the cruel mouth, his lips opened in a half-smile. Draco, on the other hand, seized the silver guillotine and neatly cut the cigar. The two men eyed each other, Harry oblivious to it all.

The Lestranges and Greyback didn't dare touch the box, as though waiting for permission. The atmosphere was solemn, but it was not a comfortable silence. Draco's return was shrouded in mystery and the group was preoccupied.

MacNair lit his cigar and sucked on it, quietly observing the blonde. He blew, a ring of smoke floated in the air.

"So, how did you manage to defy the Grim Reaper once again?" he asked, sending the book of matchs flying on the table.

Draco's elegant fingers opened it, his gestures contrasting with MacNair's rough manners.

"Lucius wasn't the only one to know how to exit in style," he answered with an air of mockery. "I owed it to myself to surpass him, and I believe I can fairly say I succeeded. The fireworks were quite spectacular, don't you think?"

"Indeed." MacNair chuckled but the uncertainty in his eyes showed he wasn't satisfied with Draco's answer. He looked at the Lestranges, his brows furrowed.

He turned back to Draco and insisted, "Well, tell us! How did you accomplish this sleight of hand?"

Draco unfolded the match book, the name of a British hotel inscribed upon it, and cracked the stick. The flame took immediately and he lit the cigar.

"A magician never reveals his tricks. Let's say... I vanished into thin air."

He blew on the flame, the tongue of fire flicked before disappearing in a silent breath. Draco's eyes sparkled with mischief, which Harry espied, fascinated, before giggling. However, his mood wasn't shared by Greyback who bent forward in a sudden movement. His neck seemed to elongate, his whole body directed toward Draco.

"Cut the bullshit, Malfoy," he groaned, "how did you do it, huh?"

MacNair raised up a hand to appease him even though he was also clearly annoyed with Draco's feint. When he asked a question, he liked to have an unambiguous answer. Secrets were something he hated, especially in his business. Harry had to admit his curiosity was piqued too.

Draco took a draw on the cigar then lent his head back on his seat, letting the silence speak for itself.

"Where are you shacked up?" Rodolphus suddenly asked, his soft voice jarring in this tense climate.

A slight smile curled the blonde's lips. He wouldn't give any information to the group, everybody could see that, so he waved his hand left and right. "I don't have a pied-à-terre. I go from one place to another... Make sure I'm careful."

"You know, if you want to stay the night, you're more than welcome," MacNair offered, despite Greyback's obvious discontent. "I'll tell you what, you're our guest tonight, and tomorrow, you come along with us... See how we work. We're going to visit the new warehouses in Dartford, we made a fine deal with the owners. It could be useful to you if you need a storage depot."

Draco crossed his legs, weighing the question, then approved with a nod.

"Why not, I could use a little change of air." He looked Harry straight in the eye. "I sense this will be an interesting day."

Harry had no influence on the turn of events. Everything was determined without him having a say. So, he let himself drift away on the couch, letting them decide on his fate.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

The evening had proceeded uneventfully. Draco had passed a good part of it talking business with MacNair or isolating himself to privately make phone calls. The only moments Draco had acknowledged Harry's presence had been to utter nasty remarks. It was strange to be on the receiving end of his hate again.

Harry had pleaded a headache and left to lock himself in his room; any excuse to avoid the melodrama that was unfolding in the house.

He entered his room, a rather impersonal space, sparsely decorated. Harry ensconced himself in there when he needed time alone or when MacNair was occupied in his quarters. The bed was neatly made; he hadn't slept in those sheets for months. Even the chest of drawers and the wardrobe were half-empty. Little by little, he had settled into MacNair's room, at the latter's demand.

MacNair had asked Harry to move in very soon into their relationship. It was peculiar to see that behind this man apparently boorish and solitary, was hiding a softer side, a need for love. He often showed roughness toward him, but it may have been caused by Harry's lack of response to his overtures of affection. The brunet let him have his way with him, but he was rarely the one to make the first move. On a few occasions, Harry proved himself more forward, but it was only for the sake of the mission. However, in the morning, he was like a different man. Surprisingly enough, he liked to hug Harry and snuggle with him as if he were a teddy bear. MacNair was also very generous in relation to him, showering him with gifts and attention.

This new role of lover was confusing. Back in the Organization, MacNair had represented the enemy, the cruel accuser, the man in the shadow, biding his time. Now that the tide had turned, he had opened up, slipping with comfort and ease into his new persona. He talked and laughed louder, enjoyed company, and therefore, let his guard down. Once he had taken Harry under his wing, he had hidden nothing from him, be it business or private matters.

Protective, MacNair never let him far from his sight, but Harry was no prisoner. He had been able to meet McCarthy and his contacts without being bothered. In this regard, he had never felt more free, and at the same time, never more alienated. Because what he did with MacNair stripped him of his body, night after night. He was nothing but an empty shell and he couldn't recognize himself anymore. Or maybe he did. That face in the mirror was the face of a lost boy he hadn't seen in a long time, a boy barely out of his teens, full of guilt and fear, alone in a hateful world. It was the junky who gave himself to anybody. Without dignity. Without identity.

Later that night, he found himself lying next to MacNair, in the man's vast luxurious room. The place was heavily decorated: bronze war sculptures on the side table, old coats of arms and crossed swords on the wall. A four-poster king size bed with tulle draperies, above the sculpted head of the bed, a medieval tapestry. There was a Hogwarts feel to the room, but these objects, as old and beautiful as they were, weren't part of their history. It couldn't possibly signify anything to MacNair. It was fake.

Everything was fake in this room.

As Harry had hoped, they hadn't gone far that night. A little treat to content MacNair and the man had fast fallen asleep.

In the morning, Harry woke up alone. He stretched slowly, enjoying having the bed to himself, without being pressed against a hairy and slick torso. He observed the ceiling through the drapery's veil. As if projecting images onto the tulle screen, he replayed the mornings he had woken up with Draco next to him in bed. The sweet smiles of the blonde, the faint lines in the corner of his sleepy eyes; his touch, possessive and warm.

He sprawled across the bed, running his hand over the silk sheets, remembering the sensation of Draco's skin against him. His body undulated unhurriedly on the bed, moved by desire. He felt himself harden and gasped with wonder. It had been so long since he had felt this, without needing any artifice. He smiled and slipped his hand into his boxer shorts. Eyes shut, he pictured the blonde's tongue on him, his hair brushing his neck, his eyes gazing into his. "Draco" he whispered, caressing himself. The rustle of the sheets accelerated, his panting filled the room. He bit his lips, his muscles tensing and his head pressing against the pillow. The movement of his wrist became frantic, his eyes scrunched up, the pleasure overwhelming. Then, with a muffled cry, he came under the sheets. And like each time after his solitary sessions, the come down swiftly followed.

Draco wasn't there.

As fast as the pleasure of release had hit him, shame and guilt beset him. He felt stupid to have let go that way. His fantasies always carried Draco's face; no one else's. But Draco would never come back to him. MacNair would make sure of that anyway.

Harry fell back in his lethargy, eyes fixed to the ceiling again, when he felt his hands shaking.

_Fuck! Already?_

Usually, the need occurred later in the day, long after breakfast. Harry got up, his body weary/sluggish, and left the room to reach his own. Once inside, he headed toward the bedside table. In the drawer, several clear bags containing pills of various colours, some white powder and a tin box. Harry seemed transfixed by the old advertisement decorating the lid. He hadn't dared touch it yet. It would be a mistake. He was already on the borderline, and didn't want to dig his own grave. He would only take a dab. It was nothing to him, just enough to handle the meeting.

Harry had slipped on designer blue straight trousers and navy sweater. MacNair liked Harry to be impeccable on all occasion.

He descended the stairs and stopped a moment, his hand on the rail. Downstairs, around the grand table, sat MacNair still in his satin dressing gown. On his right, Draco in a simple buttoned down blue shirt, collar open and crisp, charcoal grey trousers, and Greyback in a tight, long sleeved tee-shirt accentuating his rippling muscles. On his left, Rodolphus and Rabastan, exclusively in back, as staid as ever, an empty seat separating them from MacNair.

A real family portrait.

Harry didn't hurry. He went down the last steps with heavy feet, not hiding his irritation. Greyback didn't turn to him but his eyes were gleeful; Harry's antics seemed to amuse him. Once Harry reached the back of MacNair's seat, he grasped him by the shoulders to announce his presence. MacNair covered his hand with his own and turned his head, allowing Harry to lean forward and bestowed a chaste kiss on his lips. The perfect little couple.

Harry took his place on MacNair's left. The latter shifted his chair closer until the brunet was almost pressed to his side. Harry met Draco's inquisitive stare right away. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm his nerves. He would have preferred not to face the blonde. His scrutiny completely disarmed him, like an electric current passing coursing through. Then another hand chased his away, MacNair's fingers digging through his thick mane.

Greyback was observing the scene while the Lestranges discussed horse races and bets, newspaper in hand. The plates on the table were half-empty when a man in uniform came to bring bacon and eggs to Harry, along with a bowl of fruit. The brunet had little appetite though. He kept stabbing segments of orange without even bringing them to his mouth.

MacNair resumed the conversation.

"As I told you, we're doing the exchange at the Cabo this Wednesday. I put new guys on this job. It's not a big transaction, but there's money to be made. Red has an interesting network, good clients. Discreet. It'll be good for us; open many doors."

Draco turned and twisted his knife against the embroidered napkin. He watched Harry, blinking slowly, as though in deep thought, then shifted his eyes to MacNair.

"And you don't mind sharing your plans with me?" He titled his head toward Harry "With him? I thought you more cautious than that. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you gone soft with age!" He furrowed his brows, a spurious air of disappointment on his face.

A silence followed his words, MacNair's face steady and unresponsive. Then a burst of laugher erupted. It was Greyback, bending over with mirth. He swatted Draco's shoulder.

"That's our old Draco. I like it!"

There was a twitch in MacNair's right eye, but his voice was amused when he answered, "I know you're a man of honour. Am I wrong to trust you?"

Draco smiled, planting his knife on the cloth, turning the blade again and again.

"What about Harry?" he insisted. "I remember a time when you were ready to tear him to pieces for the sake of intuition."

Harry stared coldly at Draco, a silent exchange passing between them.

'What are you trying to do?' Harry's eyes said, but Draco was unabashed.

MacNair kept his sight on the blonde while he squeezed Harry's knee under the table. "The circumstances were different. Harry's with me now. I know him, he'll stand by me."

Draco lifted a brow. "Really, you think so?" he challenged.

Harry's heart began beating wildly. Was he going to do it now?

Harry defied him with his gaze again, the others unaware of the turmoil that was taking place. Draco smirked, and Harry knew he had no chance. Draco had the upper hand; he could do as he pleased, while Harry was a lost lamb among the wolves. Nobody would save him this time. He felt dread rise up inside him.

He should have taken a stronger fix that morning.

Draco continued, "I recall you warned me: never mix up business and feelings."

"Yes... yes... but that was the old me. I try now to appreciate all the pleasures life offers. Besides, a little enjoyment can't hurt... We learn a lot from a man when we hold him between our hands."

He ran his thumb against Harry's cheek, but the young man couldn't keep it together anymore. He backed up his chair, making the wood squeak against the tiles in a deliberate way.

"I think I'd better leave you alone," he declared in a scathing tone, "I'll come back when you've finished talking as if I weren't in the room."

MacNair inclined his head toward him. "Treasure," he said in a honeyed voice, "Stay seated. No need to get upset. Draco simply worries about the failure of our business. It is quite touching, don't you think?"

"I'm not interested in the least," Harry answered, his voice still dry.

He was about to get up, one hand on the back of his chair, when MacNair grabbed his arm with a strong grip.

"Sit." he hissed.

Harry had heard this tone before. It was the one he used when dealing with recalcitrant henchmen. It was best not to argue in these circumstances.

Harry sat back down silently, Draco never moving his focus from him. Harry quickly averted his eyes, his fists clenched.

MacNair's voice softened then.

"The guys and I have a meeting in town this morning. Harry, why don't you give Draco a tour of our lands?"

Harry knew pertinently that his invitation was anything but genuine.

"That way, we can meet later in the afternoon. What do you say Draco?"

"Perfect."

Harry barely glanced at Draco, but his one glimpse was enough to catch his satisfied stare, promise of an eventful day.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry dragged his feet on the freshly cut grass, his hand buried in his pockets and his eyes downcast. He had no desire to be there and play the guide. It was ridiculous. After all, MacNair suspected that Draco and he had separated on bad terms. He had asked Harry about it often enough, and despite the brunet's evasiveness about their last days together, Draco's behavior since his return had been eloquent in itself. Was he trying to humiliate him? Maybe so, but it was more likely a test. MacNair was not a man to take what he saw at face value.

Draco stayed a few steps behind, his hands at his back, an indifferent expression on his face. He hadn't uttered a word since they'd gone out, and Harry didn't want to be the first to speak. The further they strayed into the park, the more tension built.

They finally came to a stop, in front of a disused fountain covered with brown leaves and dust, Greek statues of nymphs frozen in graceful poses at the center. Harry had made a habit of retreating there whenever he needed a moment outside of the domain wall. Harry sighed and let himself fall on one of the stone benches encircling the place. He focused on Draco's shiny shoes now stained with grass and soil. That was something he always liked about Draco: despite his posh airs, he was not afraid to get dirty and crumpled. Once more, Harry marveled at how much Draco had changed, from a fearful teen into this confident, strong man. A small smile flittered across his lips but it disappeared almost instantly.

"Do you know what happened to Pansy?" he asked out of the blue.

The question seemed neutral enough, and he was dying to have some news about the young woman. It had been such a long time… He didn't even know if she was dead or alive. Whatever had happened he was sure Draco knew about it. But when the answer came, it was icy.

"That's none of your business."

Harry lowered his head, eyes riveted on the ground strewn with dried leaves.

He liked the autumn, its colours, the wind whipping his hair around. He looked at the ancient trees about them, the beauty of the place, trying to enjoy the landscape to appease his mind. He wanted to profess his love, convince Draco he wouldn't betray him again, but Draco's frosty expression prevented him doing so.

"What's the point?" he pondered, almost to himself. "You don't want to hear what I have to say; your mind is set, isn't it? I'm your enemy, I know. So, what's the plan? You're going to toy with me until I break? Tell me."

"Right, act the victim again," Draco bit out, his harsh tone forcing Harry to lift his eyes toward him. "You've always been good at it, but you can't fool me now. You're still playing the rat for this McCarthy shit, putting out for MacNair without a second thought!"

Harry's eyes darkened instantly.

"But duty comes first, right?" Draco viciously added.

Harry jolted straight up as if ready to defend himself but he did nothing. Draco was standing in front of him, strong on his feet, daring Harry to counter him, but the brunet was speechless. How could their relationship have come to this? Where did the love go? There were only ashes left. The pyre at Reading had burnt everything, and had carried away what was left of them with it.

Everything started to spin around him, the trees pitching and the ground unsteady.

He felt his body tremble. Only shivers. But there was no earthquake, nor icy wind, and those cramps in the pit of his stomach, this diffuse pain that started to crawl under his skin... He should have taken something before venturing out here.

Harry staggered forward, turning his back to Draco, but the blonde didn't give him time to go far. He marched right in front of him to block his way out.

Harry avoided his gaze and quickly wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"I've got a headache," he muttered. "I'd better go."

He took a step sideways but Draco mirrored his action, effectively baring his path.

"What is it, Potter?" he snarled out, "Five minutes in my company and you already need an excuse to leave?"

Harry didn't want to do this now. His blood was on fire, skin itchy; he uselessly rubbed his left arm. He was too damn feverish and the whole situation was just increasing his nervousness. He had to go, and fast. He shook his head, eyes half-closed.

"Believe whatever you want," he drawled.

He shouldered Draco to escape, but Draco's voice cut him short.

"Really Potter, you're going to leave now that we're finally alone?"

He chose this moment to finally decide to take it upon himself to talk?

Harry turned slowly and looked at Draco. The blonde's face was so serious that Harry forgot his pain for a minute.

"Come on," Draco said, dropping his hands to his sides. "You can tell me now." He threw Harry an intent stare. "How is he in bed, uh?"

Harry sighed, dejected.

Draco was screwing with him; again! He had the impression they'd gone back to the start, when they were unable to talk without insulting each other.

"What?" he spat out, "Do you want to know if he's better than you?"

Draco kept to a light tone, "I was wondering... Is it part of the mission or do you just enjoy going from one bed to another?"

Harry had heard enough. "Ok, I'm not going to sit here and listen to your bullshit."

While he turned his back to Draco, the latter shoved him hard on his shoulder blade. Harry stumbled, his body suddenly propelled forward, but he managed to stay upright. He turned and glared at the blonde, his lips trembling. Draco's sudden violence had shocked him. His breathing was laboured, his nerves raw. The withdrawal he was experiencing made him want to lash out against someone; anyone. And Draco was clearly waiting for it. But he would not start a fight. It would only worsen the situation and Harry was in no state to stand up to the blonde. He waited for the next blow to come and was surprised to hear Draco raise his voice, throwing everything he had in his heart:

"Look at you! I can hardly recognize you! Where's the man who liked to argue about everything? The man who didn't give a damn about his wardrobe, or money, and who didn't let people talk about him like he were a fucking escort?"

His eyes were furious, his hands opened.

"Or has this always been you?"

Harry was struck by his words. He might have given up the fight but that wasn't him. Or was it?

He shook his head, the whisper of the wind and the bristling of the leaves dizzying him. He didn't have the strength to push the debate, and maybe it was for the best.

"Ok, stop, I'm tired," Harry said weakly.

But Draco was not finished.

"Do they give classes at the Division or were you always this good?"

The attack was harsh, but the waver in his voice was starting to betray his emotions, much to Harry's obliviousness.

"All this time, you knew exactly what you were doing. A real professional. You made me fall and you liked it, didn't you?"

"You know that's not true!" Harry bit out in despair.

It was too much to bear, he could barely stand... and Draco was too close... and these cold statues observing them with their blank stares.

"My feelings were always real! I told you so!"

"You mean before you gave the signal to the Division to get rid of us?"

Harry almost crumbled, his voice came out in a cry,

"I didn't do anything! They were already there!"

The lopsided grin on Draco's lips told him he wasn't buying it.

"You really believe me a fool," the blonde said. "You play the innocent again, I fall back into your arms and you sell me out to the Division. Been there, done that, thank you." A strange smile appeared on his face and his eyes were blazing. "Never again. Never again, you hear me! Once was enough, and I will take no stock in a single word out your mouth."

Whatever Harry chose to say, Draco would not hear him. And Harry couldn't blame him.

His eyes fogged; he felt faint.

"Then tell them the truth if that makes you feel better. I don't care anymore," he said resignedly, his hand on his forehead.

But Draco granted him no quarter.

"Oh, the selfless act now… If you think I'll end your torment, you're sorely mistaken. I will make you suffer as much as you did me. For months you lied to me, you took all the people I cared about away from me, so it's your turn to pay."

Harry snickered, scrubbing his face. It was too much. Everything blurred in front of him, his blood rushing to his brain and Draco's cutting words resounding like drums in his ears. A private hell, just for him. He lifted his sorrowful eyes to Draco, took two steps back, then turned and left.

He ran all the way to the mansion and into his room. He closed the doors and hurried to the bedside table.

He needed to take the pain away.

This time, he didn't think twice. He wanted the immediate relief and nothing could compare to the needle. The effect would be instantaneous.

His hands were shaking and his movements so violent he dropped the drawer onto the floor. He knelt and fumbled with the objects scattered about the carpet along with the precious tin box that had fallen open. He spotted the works and retrieved the rest of the paraphernalia. Sweat was dripping down his neck and back. He ripped the plastic wrapping from the syringe and whimpered with need as his heart sped up with prospect. His body ached so much. He arose painfully and filled his glass with water. Swallowing he settled on the bed, resting his back against the soft pillows propped by the headboard and steadied himself for the task ahead.

The snow falling on the twisted, blackened spoon.

A small dribble of saline.

The lighter beneath the cold metal bowl.

The bubbles gathering on the cooking surface.

The needle in the cotton ball, drawing up the hot liquid.

The delicious anticipation as the fluid cools.

The yellow rubber band clacking above the elbow.

He aimed at the bruised vein, pulled a little blood into the barrel.

He undid the tourniquet with a practiced flick.

No hesitation.

He pushed the plunger down.

The intoxicating rush.

His eyes rolled backwards, his breath cut by the power of the sensation. He welcomed the ecstasy with abandon, a sigh of contentment escaping his mouth. All the anguish, the dread melted away. Only pleasure was left.

His head fell back on the pillow, his hand released the syringe which rolled away on the sheet, his whole body turning slack. He lay on the bed like a rag doll, a few more sighs escaping his lips, his eyelids fluttering still, and his hand in spasm every few moments.

He wasn't there anymore.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Much later in the evening, Harry had yet to leave the comfort of his room, sprawled across his bed as he was. His eyes were shut; his arms crossed against his torso, his legs joined and straight, like a corpse lying on a sepulchral sheet. He had quickly come down from his cloud, and he couldn't bring himself to see Draco again. He'd had his share of confrontation today. Dinner would be served in a few minutes and he knew MacNair would knock at his door to try and force him to accompany them. As usual, Harry would follow him, join the guys at the table and pretend to care about their day. And as usual, he would toy with the food, swallow one or two pieces of bread, waiting to go back to his stash and get wasted again. Harry never had appetite these days, drugs were his only sustenance. It was a long time since he had felt desire for anything but narcotics... Since Draco.

A sharp knock brought him out of his reverie. Lazily, he turned his head to the side and opened his eyes to look at the wall. He stared blankly at the clock face and it took him a moment to make sense of the hands' position.

_6 o'clock. MacNair, right on time._

He sighed and lifted himself with great effort to sit at the edge of the bed. As the door opened, he darted a quick look at the bedside table. He had put everything away in the drawer. Gone were the traces of his high.

"I know, I know, I'm coming" he drawled, anticipating MacNair's reaction.

But it was Draco who appeared in the room. Harry pulled his sleeves down in a swift manoeuvre, suddenly very self-conscious. Then he frowned just as quickly: it was stupid, the honeymoon was over and done. Why was he acting like there was still something to save?

"What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.

Draco smirked, surely sensing the conflict within him.

"I came to say goodbye, my guys are waiting for me."

"Ok, bye," Harry answered in a gush, turning his head away.

Draco wasn't fooled.

"I didn't want you to upset yourself more than necessary," he explained leisurely. "You can breathe again now."

Harry snorted and sensed the blonde approaching him. Draco had taken two steps forward and was almost face to face with Harry.

"But don't think I'm through with you," he said, his voice turning malevolent. "I intend to come back very soon. In fact, MacNair just gave me an open invitation. If I were suspicious, I'd say your boyfriend is looking for trouble."

Harry didn't take the bait.

"Have you finished? Then you can leave," he retorted in a dismissive tone.

But clearly, Draco wanted to have the last word.

"Baby," he mocked," I can sense you're all hot and bothered. Why all this tension?"

Harry didn't know how to take it anymore. He stood up and started to get it off his chest.

"Okay, what do you want? For me to come crawling at your feet and beg your forgiveness? 'Cause I can't revive the dead, and I can't turn back time anymore! If I could, if things were the way they used to be… but it's not that easy now! We can't mend what's broken, we can't control what's happening! A night doesn't pass without me thinking about all the horror that's gone by, but what do you want me to do? I have no magic anymore! There's no more hero!"

Harry was huffing now, fists clenched along his sides. His outburst had drained him and he was waiting for a reaction, an answer.

"There's nothing to do."

Draco had said that between his teeth, a nasty look on his face.

"A hero…" he whispered, mockingly.

Harry swallowed the sourness in his mouth and glared at Draco, his eyes like two slits. "Like you're so righteous! Let me remind you that you didn't hesitate to betray me too! You were ready to let me die at Lucius' hands!"

Draco wet his lips and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. A pregnant silence, then, with a bitter smile, his gaze landed on Harry again.

"I didn't tell him anything."

Harry frowned, at a loss, while Draco kept on.

"He came unannounced that day, the whole gang behind him. He knew everything. He had received information... When he came and found me, I knew exactly what he had in mind for you. I had to stand by him, like a good son, a good leader. It was my rightful place. And despite what you had done, I couldn't let it go. During his little speech, I had all but one desire, it was to run to you and warn you."

Harry listened attentively, his features changing progressively. His mouth opened, he couldn't believe his ears. He had been far from suspecting that Draco had tried to save him.

Draco continued, his features tensing at the memory. "But once you came in, I was stuck. All the guys were there, and me, like a prick, I could feel my hand trembling against my gun. I was dying to get it out of my pocket, but then what would I have done? Charged the crowd? I wouldn't have made it out alive, and neither would you. And then you pulled your little stunt, and everything went crazy."

Harry could do nothing but stutter, "I… I didn't know…"

Draco's revelation changed everything.

Harry padded close to Draco, their eyes drowned in each other's, intense.

The blonde's face had crumbled and Harry was moved by this sudden vulnerability. He reached out his hand to touch him but Draco staggered back.

"Stop it!' he lashed out "Don't pretend you care, it doesn't suit you…"

Harry's hand faltered and dropped pitifully at his side.

"I just wanted to clear it up for you. But know that if I had to do it all over again, I'd let them shoot you in the head."

Harry looked away then. Draco was not kidding.

"So you're free to contact the Division and tell them about me, but you won't pull it off this time. I'm prepared now."

Harry shook his head. He couldn't let Draco go like this.

But he barely had time to react to this disclosure before the blonde had already left.

Harry fell apart, collapsing on the floor.

How to convince Draco? Was it even worth trying?

He closed his eyes when he heard steps behind the door. His head jolted up and he jumped to his feet to open the door, his heart hammering in his chest.

But instead of Draco, he found himself facing with MacNair. His shoulders slumped slightly, all hope gone from his eyes.

The man seemed offish. Had he eavesdropped on their conversation? They should have been more careful…

"You coming?" the other asked with his raspy voice.

Harry blinked. He took a moment to find his voice, then managed a smile.

"Yes," he answered, jaw tight.

He stayed two seconds in the doorway, a pensive look on his face, then he slammed the door shut, the room now empty and silent.


	23. Beware

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing MsLefay.

* * *

**CHAPTER 22 : BEWARE**

**March 23, 2005**

The League had left the Mansion to go to their flat in Kensington, one of their second residences. The daily routine had slipped back into place, and with it, the hindrances of Harry's mission had resumed… Harry stood by MacNair and supported him in his decisions. He took part in most of their meetings and tried to stay alert when associates came to the apartment, but he was disheartened, therefore ever more information slipped his attention.

Harry was seated on a wrought iron window seat in a little alcove, framed by heavy velvet curtains. Tall shelves surrounded the room, overflowing with books that no one read but him. It was a quiet place, isolated and safe; a haven where Harry could forget about the League and the Division. But that day, Harry was having a hard time concentrating on his reading. His thoughts were elsewhere. Flashes from his conversation with Draco kept crossing his mind, nagging at him relentlessly, like a true obsession. The prospect of Draco's next visit only made him more restless.

The door opened and MacNair walked inside with a loud sigh. Harry kept his book in hand, pretending to be engrossed in his literature. The man stood a few meters away, silent. Harry could feel his eyes on him and it made him uneasy. Contrary to MacNair, who was getting all the more comfortable with him over time, Harry was never able to brush off the fear and aversion the man inspired in him. He was staring at his page but could see from the corner of his eye MacNair unbuttoning his suit and approaching quietly. Harry didn't bat an eyelash, hoping the man would keep his distance, but a moment later, the cushions dipped and MacNair was all over him, hands on his thighs and lips upon lips. He tasted of smoke and alcohol, an unappealing mix. Harry scrunched his nose and tilted his head away with a twisted smile, in what he hoped would appear a playful move, before turning back to his book. He expected MacNair to take the hint and leave him alone, but the man seemed to have other plans: he started running his hands over the brunet's neck and torso, his tongue teasing his. It lasted a while, MacNair getting increasingly touchy-feely, and Harry couldn't possibly play hard to get any longer. So he gave in. He laced his fingers around the man's neck, and kissed him with renewed ardour, feigning the same passion. The other snaked his hand around his hip and pulled him closer against him.

"Nothing better than this to forget work's tensions," MacNair said, nibbling on his lips. "You know I couldn't stop thinking about you and your sweet arse for the whole meeting."

He looked at Harry and gave a mischievous tap to his bum, his eyes glittering with lust. Harry blushed slightly. MacNair appreciated each of their intimate moments and often teased the brunet, trying to get a reaction. It seemed they were still playing the game of seduction. It was probably why MacNair was so enamoured with him. Harry was always eluding him and the man certainly enjoyed the chase.

"I had to interrupt the discussions to join you", MacNair continued. "You see how you affect me, treasure?"

Talking was good. And Harry was out to make the conversation last.

"How did it go?" he asked while drawing away from his companion.

MacNair sighed and took on a troubled expression.

"The usual problems... The Vanderbergh cousins didn't make the quotas. Their results were mediocre at best. I think we'll have to dispense with their services soon."

"Oh."

Harry knew what that meant. Bye bye the Vanderberghs! It was the survival of the fittest. Besides, when Harry had shared his concern with McCarthy, listing the partners who were endangered by death, there had never been any intervention from him or his men. He had accepted the fact that for McCarthy, these "readjustments" were a blessing. A gangster or two less... The streets would only grow safer.

MacNair pulled him from his thoughts by bringing up the sensitive subject of the day.

"So, you haven't say anything about Saturday night."

He ran his finger along Harry's plump lips, a small grin on his face. Harry lowered his eyes coyly. He still shied from the way MacNair sometimes ogled at him, a voracious and intimidating leer, so different from the passionate looks he used to receive from Draco. He wet his lips, the salty taste of MacNair's finger unpleasant on his tongue. He refrained from wiping his mouth, and kept his eyes on the man.

"It's… I don't mind, it's just... Why do you insist so on integrating him into our circle? After all that happened, I don't think it's a good idea."

MacNair was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Harry. His eyes were lowered on the brunet, watching him closely, searching for the flaw in his behaviour.

"Why, Draco's always been a good friend," he answered, his voice deceptively soft.

Under Harry's incredulous stare, he chuckled.

"A good colleague then," he corrected. "I've always respected the man. He's had good advice regarding the... depots; and didn't seem as bothered as I'd thought by our group's advent." His voice turned firmer then, "And I hope I don't have to worry about your relationship, am I wrong?"

"No…" Harry answered, a hint of fear in his voice.

He managed to force a smile and rested his hand on MacNair's. With the time, these tender gestures came to him more and more naturally.

"Of course not," he insisted slyly.

He kissed MacNair to reassure him and snuggled closer to his chest. The broader man kept his gaze fixed on Harry while he responded to the sweet invasion.

Harry detached his lips and mustered an innocent smile. MacNair could never resist his angelic looks. But the man wasn't finished.

"I heard you that day, when you two were arguing in your room. What was that about?"

Harry frowned and easily came up with a lie. "Nothing, it was stupid. He was a bit jealous... He didn't expect me to find someone else so soon, that's all."

MacNair let out an exaggerated laugh. "What, did he think you'd mourn him for years? Like an old widow!" He chuckled. "Personally, I can't complain about the turn of events."

He flashed a predatory smile to Harry and his hands buried themselves in the wild hair. The gesture reminded the brunet of the way Draco used to caress his dark strands. MacNair had adopted the same habit, and it made him all the more morose. A good thing he knew to hide his feelings. Harry turned a tender gaze to MacNair, the two both deep in thought. MacNair looked at him intently. In these moments, a thousand interrogations seemed to cross his face, but he rarely verbalized them. Harry could only guess the doubts and the preoccupations their shaky relationship could cause him. They were an improbable couple, so different and so… wrong.

"Don't you have any regrets?" MacNair asked gently.

Harry swallowed all he had in his heart, all the things he could reply to that, and answered equally as softly.

"None."

MacNair kissed him again, his lips attacking his voraciously, devouring him, his nose digging against his cheek. Then, none too gently, the man pulled Harry by his shirt's collar, his expression suddenly cold and Harry's eyes widened.

"But don't you dare defy me," the man said with a threatening voice. "I will know if you get a little too close for him, and it won't be pretty." His fingers tightened but Harry didn't show any pain. "I was patient during his little visit, but I don't appreciate him going to your room without my permission. This is the last time I'll allow it. Is that clear?

Harry blinked, unsettled by the change of tone. He should have been used to these mood swings by now... He nodded numbly and answered calmly, "Yes Walden."

MacNair's face was only a few centimetres from his, scrutinizing him, then his mouth sank into Harry's neck, nibbling on it avidly, leaving a purple mark on the thin skin.

"Good," he said between two assaults. "Patty will come at five to discuss the final details, if you want something in particular, just ask her."

Harry nodded, very docile after his companion's demonstration of force. MacNair relaxed again on the couch, his hand possessive on Harry's hip and his head tilted back against the cushioned top. After a few more minutes, Harry realized that MacNair wasn't going to leave. He would stay like this, peaceful and silent, content with his mere presence. So he picked up his book and pretended to read again, his eyes unmoving, staring blankly at the page.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Fingers grabbed a shiny set of keys resting on the buffet. A door opened and a hand took a black tweed jacket from its hanger.

"I'm going!" Harry shot out, hastily slipping his arms into the jacket's sleeves.

MacNair, who was talking on the phone in the living-room, tilted his head in his direction and covered the mouth piece.

"Did you warn Peter, if you need the car…"

"No, it's alright, I'll walk."

"Ok, don't take too long."

Harry nodded and left with a slam of the door.

He rushed downstairs but before he reached the exit, he took a pause in the hall. A quick look around to make sure no one would catch him in the act, then he pulled a small bag of coke from his pocket. He liberally sprinkled the powder onto the back of his hand in a neat line and snorted it twice. The effect was mind-blowing, literally, and he had to lean against the wall to get it together. The numbing sensation in his nose was unpleasant but at this point he was too far gone to care. Now, there he was, in front of the entrance hall mirror, checking for any traces on his nose. This kind of detail still filled him with shame, but it vanished as soon as it came under the wave of peace and contentment.

He was good.

He walked out the door with a hum.

He had told MacNair he wanted to go window shopping, and since he loved to see Harry take care about his appearance, MacNair had agreed and let him go by himself. It had been as simple as that.

Harry walked down the street at a quiet pace. Just watching the passers-by busying themselves, the cars and the window shops, he felt boosted with energy. The coke had worked its effect.

He was crossing the street when, all of a sudden, he felt the hair on his neck rise. The feeling he was being watched. He turned around to make sure no one was following him, but everything seemed normal. He kept walking, his gait more hurried now.

His eyes were downcast, sweeping from left to right, strangers whizzing by in his peripheral vision. He felt uneasy, the sensation of being tailed never leaving him. He forked off from his path as soon as he reached the street corner to hide under a porch. Flattened against the wall, he watched the numerous men passing by, catching their eyes here and there, assessing if they represented a threat or not.

It was then he noticed the car. A black Chevrolet.

Harry frowned and parted slightly from the wall, unsettled.

Draco's tastes hadn't changed. The car's model was similar to the old one that had been destroyed at the River. Decidedly, he made no effort to hide himself. The car slowed down in front of him and the smoked window at the back rolled down. And as Harry had feared, it was indeed Draco, shiny smile, gorgeous hair and all.

The blonde hailed him.

"Are you playing hide and seek? I found you then," he said with a winning smile. "What now? Your turn to count to a hundred?"

Harry averted his eyes with a sigh. "I can't believe it," he muttered low.

Harry had to go to the meeting point to talk to McCarthy's contact, he couldn't postpone it. McCarthy was getting restless, he wanted results and his threats were becoming stronger. The Cabo deal would take place in two days, it was the opportunity Harry had waited for. It would calm McCarthy and leave himself off the hook for a while. But Draco could ruin it all. It was the reason he was there, of course.

Harry came out of his hideout and kept walking. The car followed him, rolling slowly along side the pavement.

"Taking a walk?" Draco asked. "Do you need a ride?"

Harry shook his head and chuckled, twisting the corner of his mouth.

"No thank you, I'll be fine," he answered, looking straight ahead and quickening his stride.

Draco continued with a light tone, "Well, I was just thinking it'd do me good to stretch my legs a little." He put his hand on the driver's shoulder in front of him and the next moment, the car stopped.

Harry paused and gripped his hair with frustration, pushing his fringe out of his face. Draco would never leave him alone. He let out a heavy breath.

_Alright then._

Harry turned to him, lips puckered up in an ironic smile, waiting for Draco to join him. The blonde was playing his role to perfection: he advanced toward Harry with amused eyes and looked at him expectantly, as if awaiting his instructions. The two men were standing in the middle of the street like two idiots, silent and still.

The wavering moment ended when Harry decided to play the same game.

"Ready for a shopping session?" he asked petulantly.

"Lead the way." Draco answered, gesturing for him to move along.

They sauntered off side by side, a bit awkwardly at first, the car following them from afar.

It was surreal, strolling about like two friends.

Draco could have asked his men to tail Harry, but no, he had to come himself. It was a destabilization tactic, and it was working.

The further his steps took him, the further Harry searched his mind, looking over the different options he had. What was the most appropriate place?

_The shopping centre._

Two streets down, Harry turned at the corner, Draco following close, his hands joined in his back, seemingly proud of his trick.

Westfield shopping centre was crowded as was to be expected. Mothers with their children in one hand and mountains of bags in the other, babies in their strollers, teenagers chattering about benches or hanging around, girls giggling in front of window shops.

The Centre was impressive, stretching on several floors, a vast space brightened by a beautiful glass roof, so high that Harry had to crane his neck to look at it.

Harry scratched his head, looking around, a bit lost with all the shops and cafés surrounding him.

"You're looking for something in particular?" Draco asked, putting an end to his hesitations.

Harry turned around to snap at him and stop the pretence, but then Draco was all smile and kind eyes. How was he doing that? Draco looked as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Harry would have laughed at the sight had the situation not been so grave.

Harry raised his brows and opened his mouth. For a moment, no words came out, then he mumbled, "Uh… A suit. I'm looking for a suit."

Draco's scrutiny made him uncomfortable.

The blonde smiled. "I see… A special occasion?"

"No. I mean yes," Harry mumbled. "Uh… for a soirée.. At the theatre."

Draco was gloating.

"MacNair's paying?" he asked.

Typical of him to pose such a question.

"Yes," Harry curtly answered.

"Then I think an Armani is de rigueur."

Draco strutted with sure steps as if he already knew the place. Harry's stance, in the other hand, betrayed his nervousness. He tried to spot the exits, the escalators, the sign boards. He had to find a way to slip away, but how to get rid of Draco?

Wait for the right moment.

They arrived at 'The Village', the area populated with luxury shops, and entered one of the boutiques. It was a wide, uncluttered space. The collections were neatly organized, the hangers meticulously aligned, the suits and shirts multiplied in elegant lines.

A stiff-necked woman with high heels and a strict black dress came their way.

"Gentlemen, may I help you?" she asked with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Draco evidently decided to take things in hands and answered himself, "Yes, we would like a black suit, elegant but not too sophisticated. A slim silhouette. I have in mind..." he began, looking Harry up and down, "a two buttons outfit, wool and silk."

The woman seemed pleased, her attitude changing slightly, something like strange satisfaction in her eyes, the same way one person looked at another when they recognized their equal match.

"Very good sir, anything else?" she asked.

"A bow tie would be lovely."

The woman nodded and disappeared with a turn of heels.

Harry felt completely out of place, whereas Draco, with his impeccable style, appeared to belong there. Draco was highly conscious of this fact and took great amusement in Harry's discomfort.. Harry was more accustomed to the small tailor shop MacNair frequented. His partner liked to surround himself with people of "his own kind", therefore he usually preferred to rely on former wizards like him. Mr Hattington was doing a fine job at it, but had very few customers. That was the order of things...

Dealing with muggles was fine where business was concerned. MacNair was the boss, and his associates were all equal in regards to money, but when it came to more elementary needs, MacNair was partial. Servants were fine, they were in their rightful place, but out there, he could hardly put up with the bad manners or the arrogance of the common people.

Harry looked through the window to observe the hall again and threw a glance behind his shoulder: Draco was scanning the small alleys with his expert eye, picking a few white shirts and pleated trousers on his way. The shop wasn't big, there was no way he could make himself scarce for now. He turned around, his eyes roving over the black and white photos of male models bearing sour expressions on the walls. He moved hesitantly around the stands, piles of trousers neatly folded abounded. He wouldn't dare touch them. Everything was so impeccable.

The shop assistant reappeared with three suits in hand. Draco approached her and rejected one of the styles right away. He added several pleat front trousers and white shirts, Harry protesting vainly behind him. Once satisfied, Draco stopped and turned to Harry. The brunet cringed, seeing there the signal to begin 'the trying on'.

He entered the large cubicle and turned about, the four walls looking more like a cage than a changing room. He looked at the clothes hanging on the hook with a sigh. There was no way out of this. So he took the first pair of trousers and slipped them on. He dressed in the shirt next, and shouldered the suit before looking at himself in the mirror.

"Not bad," he whispered.

The booth door suddenly opened and Draco materialized. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched the brunet attentively. Harry felt immediately intimidated by the scrutinizing look. Eyes lowered, he self-consciously pilled at his sleeves. He heard Draco move closer, then he yelped when the blonde batted his hands away. The assessing look resumed, so Harry let go and straightened up.

Draco bent his head, seemingly unconvinced.

"Let's try another one."

Harry sighed. He would have contented himself with the first suit, if only to stop this masquerade.

A new unbuttoned shirt and waistcoat on, Harry barely had the time to slip on the second pair of trousers when Draco was already in the fitting room.

"Draco!" he cried out, aghast by his impropriety.

But the blonde was unfazed and seized the jacket, opening it wide for Harry to slip inside. Harry threw him a dark look, buttoning himself up, then complied. With a swift movement of the hand, Draco slid the bow tie from the hook and wrapped it around the brunet's neck. Harry looked down at his skilful fingers, strangely shy amidst the intimacy of the gesture, then slowly lifted his eyes to Draco's. They lingered on the beautiful face, taking advantage of the blonde's unawareness to marvel upon the lines he knew by heart. The blonde seemed focused on his task, looping the black silk with ease.

"Done" he said, lifting his head in turn.

At this second, he seemed to realize their close proximity and the same trouble seemed to take his body over. They both stared at each other silently, their agitation untamed. Their faces were so unguarded. And in that brief moment, a deep certainty came to Harry: they could start all over, fuck it all and run away. And he knew without a doubt that, at this very moment, Draco was thinking the same. But the as quickly as it came, sharp and instantaneous, the epiphany died away.

Draco cleared his throat and turned Harry around to face the mirror. It took the brunet a moment to recover and when he really examined his own reflection, the sight surprised him. The suit looked custom tailored, elegant and dashing. Harry straightened automatically, admiring the result, when he felt Draco's fingers running along the suit collar. The blonde observed the finishing touch of the waistcoat, rearranged the bow again, then Harry met his eyes in the mirror. They stayed connected a moment too long, then Draco broke the enchantment again.

"That's the one," he said. "Once you put some weigh back on, it will be perfect."

Harry carded a hand through his hair, captivated still by his elegant alter ego, Draco right behind him, his head above his. Like that, he thought, they made a lovely couple, distinguished and well combined. Harry couldn't help but engrave the picture into his mind. He wanted to believe for a moment that they were here for this only, an errand. A day like any other. They could grab a cup of coffee afterwards, talk about their week, like normal couples did... He sighed and Draco tore apart his sweet dream with a well-chosen remark.

"MacNair will love it."

He didn't smile though. No perfidious smirk like the last time. Draco left the dressing room in silence, pensive also. Harry contemplated his retreating back with regret, but he dismissed the feeling quickly.

It was time.

Harry couldn't bother to lug about his purchase so he politely told the shop assistant to deliver it to his address before exiting. On his first step outside, he was already on the alert, looking for a way to get away without Draco by his side. The latter was waiting for him a few steps ahead, looking at his watch. Then Harry spotted a security guard wandering around the area, with his black trousers, short sleeved white shirt and black tie, a little walkie-talkie tucked under his belt.

Could he take the risk? It was a bit crazy, but he had to do it. Besides, there was nothing Draco couldn't handle…

Harry took a quick scan around, searching for the right opportunity. His eyes rested on a toy shop. Several children were gathered in front of the window, gaping at the toys with wide eyes, their little hands clutching sweets lent on the glass. A devilish smile crossed his face and he walked up to them. He stayed rooted before the colourful window, eyes riveted on the soft toys, the little cars and dolls displayed. A large empty pushchair barred the way next to him, a baby girl cradled in her mother's arms.

"Potter!" Draco called out, annoyed.

Harry didn't move, and a second later, as he had planned, the blonde came to join him, right in front of the pram. He eyed the drooling baby wrapped in a pink blanket, cradled in the lady's arms, frowning despite himself, then turned to Harry.

"What is it now, wishful thinking crisis?"

It was as soon as he finished this sentence that Harry grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him hard. Taken by surprise, the blonde stumbled back and fell over the stroller which toppled over, the toys and mobiles inside crashing to the floor. A howl rent the air. The mother stared at the mess, horrified, tightening her arms protectively around her baby, then her toddler son who had bumped his knee on one of the wheels started to whine. A small racket ensued, Harry taking advantage of it to bolt to the security man.

"Security! There's a lunatic over there", he said, pointing Draco out, "I think he was trying to molest the children."

The man snapped his head, following his finger's direction. Draco was back on his feet, his usually impeccable hair in disarray, encircled by the family, the children looking scared around him. It was perfect.

The security man acknowledged Harry by tapping his shoulder and moved toward the shop with a deathly stare. It was a fast affair, and as the agent reached him, Draco met Harry's eyes, a mean sneer across his face. The moment passed and Harry ran to the escalator. Before he disappeared from view, he glanced at Draco from afar, just in time to see the blonde start to plea wearing his most innocent expression. No doubt with his skill of persuasion, the incident would soon be resolved, so Harry ran down the moving steps, slaloming around the bystanders on his way. Once at the bottom, he looked nervously in all directions to locate the exits. There were two way outs. He hesitated when he suddenly saw Draco's familiar silhouette at the top of the escalator, phone in hand. There was no choice to dither.

He took the north exit and found himself on the street. Glimpse to the left, glimpse to the right, he bolted on instinct. He ran along the pavement and spotting a tube station, crossed the road in the middle of the traffic. Ears jarred by honks, he stopped half way, letting the cars pass and turned again.

"You got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed out loud.

Draco was already on the street.

Harry stepped forward, another car honked and the driver heckled him through his window. He staggered back then let a second one pass, biting his lips, heart hammering in his chest. At the third, he leapt forward and dashed to the path on the other side of the thoroughfare. He ran as fast as he could, but right before he reached the station stairwell, he caught sight of the black Chevrolet parking not far from him.

Stupefaction! Goyle got out of the car.

He was the driver. He hadn't seen his face before because of the tinted glasses. He had also made it out alive! But by what miracle? How come McCarthy had missed it?

Fear gripped his heart. He now didn't have one but two chances of getting intercepted.

Goyle stared at him and started running in his direction. Harry shivered: he had to switch to high gear. He ran into the underground, tumbling down the steps three by three. In front of the ticket machines, no time to worry about payment: he nimbly jumped over the ticket barrier and kept on his wild dash. A transport police officer suddenly shouted at him to stop.

Not a chance.

Only one thought: let's hope the train is near.

In a second, he spotted the shortest route and rushed to the corridor. From his position, he could see the comings and goings in the entrance and two men, as brisk as him, caught his attention: Draco and Goyle. They were almost at the barriers, no more than a few meters behind him. Harry grimaced and hurried to the new flights of stairs, bumping into several people on his way, a few turning to him with annoyed expressions.

He finally arrived on the platform.

"Shit!"

The train wasn't there. The crowd was dense on the platform and Harry made his way along it to get farther away from the stairs. He ran a hand through his hair, sweat pearling on his forehead. His breathing was laboured, his eyes sweeping around, weary.

Nothing.

He walked on, already half way down the platform, when he heard a rumble in the distance. He eased off, letting out a sigh of relief. The train's lights illuminated the dark tunnel and the long awaited screech made itself heard. Harry, eyes wide and teeth grinding, stared desperately at the other end of the platform. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. The train slowed down little by little, with an exasperating lack of haste. Harry moved toward the last carriage and turned again. His heart beat out of his chest when he saw Draco and his henchman at the top of the stairs, the transport officer a little behind them. He scrunched his face and hopped about on the spot, looking at the train's progression, the frustratingly gradual stop.

"Fuck, come on..." he whispered. He fidgeted and cursed some more, as if it could make the train halt faster.

The doors finally opened. He dashed inside, his attention drifting from the opening to the platform. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the two heads pushing their way ever faster through the crowd. He let the people swarm into the carriage and stayed right near the door in case he had to make a last minute exit.

"Come on... Come on..." he muttered, craning his neck to watch his pursuer's progression. They weren't far now.

_Beep beep beep._

The door-closure signal, never-ending.

He peeked his head past the open doors once more. The two men were running fast, too fast.

"Come on !" he cried out in frustration.

Then, just before the doors closed, Draco and Goyle managed to slip inside the annex compartment.

Harry shut his eyes, his head tipped back, oblivious to the chatter surrounding him. He pressed his hands against the door's glass to keep himself grounded. His eyes slowly opened again, sliding to his left. Through the porthole separating the compartments, he could see the blonde head towering above the other passengers. Then Draco turned and their stares met, both as tense and determined as each other.

Harry was utterly freaking out. He knew that at the next stop, they would inevitably get out and catch him, and then he would be stuck, he couldn't do a damn thing about McCarthy. He had to be the fastest; there was no way around it. If the exit was on his side, he had a chance to pip them to the post.

The journey to the next station seemed both endless and too brief. He was still staring at Draco, expressionless.

Any second now.

The apprehension was strong, he stood like an athlete preparing for the race of his life. He was breathing louder and louder without realizing it. A fix. At that moment, he dreamed of a fix. But the train made its stop.

_Ok, that's it._

Hands sweaty, fists clenched, muscles tense, he risked a last look at Draco, he too ready at the door.

_"The two competitors__are at the starting line."_

The train stopped; the doors opened. Harry jumped forward, ready for a sprint... and deflated.

_Fuck, no!_

The exit was at the opposite side of the platform.

Harry turned toward Goyle and Draco who looked at him with an air that could only be qualified as victorious, tranquilly walking toward him.

_No way._

Harry glanced sideway, but apart from what looked like a locked mechanical room, there was no exit.

_Or maybe…_

Harry had no choice. He listened carefully, but there were no other noise than the crowd's and the bleep of the train's imminent departure. He had to act quickly.

Harry dived the opposite way, toward the train's rear, and jumped down onto the train tracks without thinking, luckily avoiding the electrified rails, the need to run washis only motivation. He nearly fell, but managed to catch himself, hands in the gap between the rails. He strained his ears, but there was no sound of another train coming his way. Besides, he was at the far end of the station; he would have the time to see it coming. He crossed with hurried leaps under the bewildered eyes of the gasping crowd and hauled himself up onto the platform, hands dirty and clothes crumpled. He straightened up and ran all the way to the exit on the other end of the platform. There was no time to waste.

Harry raced toward the stairs when the departing train cleared the station, allowing him to see Draco and Goyle running up the opposite stairs. It was a close call.

Harry took the nearest exit, jumped over the ticket barriers and ran up the escalators as fast as his legs could carry him. He felt a stitch in his side already. No matter. Grimacing and pale, he continued his blind flee without a look behind.

Finally in the street, he had to find an escape route. He ran haphazardly, looking for a means of transportation, but there was no bus on the horizon. His breathing hardened and he spun around like a trapped animal looking for a way out. Providence came in the form of a black cab parking on the taxi rank in the far corner of the street. Harry ran like a possessed man, missing by an inch being run over by a motorcycle. He was sweaty and out of breath when he finally reached his target.

"To Greenwich Park," he shouted between two pants, bent doubled, hands on his thighs.

The cab driver threw a suspicious look at him.

"Sorry, I'm on my break."

"I'll pay you double," Harry bit back.

The driver groaned, clearly hesitating while Harry lifted his eyes, catching sight of Draco some distance away across the street. Their eyes met.

Too late, he was spotted.

Harry was on the verge of breaking. He fumbled in his inside pocket, took out his wallet and brandished a wad of cash with a shaky hand. The guy looked impressed. It was fortunate MacNair had been generous that day. Harry raised his eyebrows. Last chance.

"Climb in," the grumpy man finally uttered with a vague gesture of the hand.

Relief.

A tenuous smile appeared on Harry's lips. He climbed inside, slammed the car's door and tapped the edge of the front seat, nervous as ever: he hadn't won yet. Through the window, he saw Draco crossing the street toward the car. Seconds seemed like minutes as Harry grew agitated, his head oscillating between Draco, the road ahead and the damned driver.

"Go, Hurry!" he snapped, all agitated.

"Yes, yes… " the other answered with a drawl.

_The driver's head on a pike__. _

The man turned the key to start the engine, engaging the radio, oblivious to the predicament Harry was in. The brunet gritted his teeth, the crackling obnoxious song getting on his nerves. The driver turned the wheel, his hands moving leisurely, and behind, Draco's silhouette was coming closer and closer.

"Go! Go!" Harry cried out.

Then Draco was there, Goyle a step behind, but a little miracle happened: the car pulled away the moment they reached it. The blonde just had time to slap the car boot before it took off. Harry turned to the back windshield and smirked at the sight of the two dejected men. Draco and Goyle, arms dangling, the blonde hitting the pavement with his shoe.

Harry couldn't believe it.

He started to laugh hysterically, the driver eying him suspiciously from the rear-view mirror, but Harry was too happy to care.

He relaxed and closed his eyes, the city passing by his window.

Naturally, now that the race was over, he wondered what made him so happy about meeting McCarthy's contact.

_Because I have to do it._

.

The meeting in the park had been tiresome. Harry had shared all he had, the Cabo deal, the time and place, MacNair's new associates. The meeting had dragged on, they needed more juicy info and the contact had interrogated Harry thoroughly, as though he didn't trust him. The Cabo rendezvous was a good start but it was not enough. Harry couldn't help him. He had told him everything. Everything, except Draco.

And to think that he was protecting him while that imbecile chased him around and made his life miserable. Why was his life such a mess?

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**March 26, 2005**

It looked like a cross between a swinger's party and a student bash. The rooms were engulfed in colour spectrums so garish that all the faces wore the shade of the place. Couples fondling each other, some frankly vulgar, booze, drugs, in a grotesque shambles. It was simply bad taste. MacNair had meant to organize a soirée worthy of the Bacchanalia. The spirit was certainly there, with the ambient debauchery, but the lack of decorum disfigured the whole enterprise. What Harry felt there was the same abysmal mugginess of the nightclub's backrooms.

He was standing there for an hour and already, he'd had enough, smothered by all the noise, the sickly lights, and those wealthy men sprawled with drunken chicks in their arms. At least, the music was decent. Harry had managed to snag the DJ, a survivor from the X-Stacy, one of the few people he had kept in touch with. He had cut ties with Mabelle and the other dancers. It wasn't their scene. The ante-room of perdition.

The apartment was huge. Harry could have sworn he had been there previously but he couldn't remember when. It was yet another one of those dens of inequity MacNair frequented. A relation had probably lent him the place. They were all the same to him anyway. Harry wandered through the rooms like a lost man, then he stopped in his tracks. It was that laugh. He would recognize it from a thousand others. He moved again but before he had the time to escape the green room, his beloved enemy greeted him with a languid "Potter, what a pleasure!"

Draco dismissed the blonde girl on his arm. "Why don't you get yourself a drink, love," he said with the ease of a playboy. Harry couldn't help following the girl with hateful eyes. Draco snapped his fingers in front of him and tilted his head with a mocking smile. Harry turned to him. Draco looked stunning as always, his light blue shirt flattering his tan skin. His elegance outshone the most beautiful men in the room. And behind the face and body were all the tenderness, the passion and love he had known with him. The comparison with MacNair was grotesque.

"Tell me, how did your last rendezvous go?"

Harry sobered up. "What?"

He swept his eyes around, fearing indiscrete ears.

"The Division," Draco said louder. "What did you tell them?"

Harry grabbed his elbow, glancing at the people around with a forced smile, and pulled him into a quite corner.

"Do they know about me?" the blonde continued.

"You... you're drunk, you don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh, on the contrary, my mind is very clear."

"Draco, Harry! My, my, you're inseparable!"

Harry started. It was MacNair. The party was on.

The big boss came and interposed between the two men.

"Draco, are you by any chance trying to steal him from me?" he taunted with a cheerful voice.

Draco smiled but his absence of answer sounded like an affront.

"You don't mind if I borrow him..." MacNair said, a possessive hand wrapping around Harry's shoulders.

As if he needed permission.

Harry was fed up with this masquerade and walked away with joy, MacNair in his tow. His companion dragged him into the middle of a low-lit room to join the growing crowd of intertwined couples. He pulled Harry tightly against him and kissed him avidly. They swayed left and right in a smooth dance, the desire undeniable in MacNair's movements and adventurous hands. The budge in his pants had been evidence enough.

"Hm, I want to fuck you," MacNair slurred.

Direct.

Harry closed his eyes. "Let me refresh and I'm yours."

MacNair let go of his arms, allowing him to get away. Harry didn't turn for he knew the lusty look he'd be greeted by if he risked a glance, and he didn't need to be more put off as it was.

Harry went upstairs to one of the bathrooms, men and women were slumped against the corridor walls, snorting or groping at each other. He made his way around them with indifference and entered the toilet. There, he lowered the loo seat and sat tiredly on it, head between his knees. From his vantage point, he could see empty bottles and used condoms scattered around and a dubious substance spread on the floor. As if he didn't feel seedy enough… He closed his eyes and sighed. He felt miserable and he wanted to go.

He searched his pocket and opened his palm. In it, a blood bean and a yellow bottle with the words "RUSH extra strong" written in a flashy red, a lightning bolt crossing the inscription. Harry snorted at the irony of it. He swallowed the pill and opened the bottle of amyl nitrate. He'd had all the difficulty in the world responding to MacNair's caresses and poppers helped him to satisfy his lover. No way could he feel any real desire otherwise, and a man couldn't possibly hide these things. He put the bottle under his nostril and took two deep inhalations. An electrifying buzz rushed to his head, the blood pounded in his ears, and a pleasant warmth filled him. He left the washroom quickly; the effect never lasted long and he had to find MacNair immediately.

Unfortunately, he found Draco instead.

He was standing next to the door as if expecting him.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Draco joked, "people will get ideas..."

Harry felt euphoric, and worse, an unspeakable excitation overtook him. The entire body belonging to the blonde called out for him, and he couldn't prevent his growing arousal. With MacNair only a few feet away, this could only end badly. Harry gathered all his strength not to give in to temptation and dived toward the stairs, but the blonde was faster, his strong hands gripping both stair rails, an insurmountable barrier.

Harry wanted to feel anger, but Draco's eyes, his skin unveiled by the open collar of his shirt, his close fitting trousers flattering his thighs and bum, and that hair… He was inexorably attracted, aflame from head to toe. He wanted to be taken now and there.

He felt himself moving closer to Draco, his fingers lifting to run along the blonde's neck. At first perplexed with his change in behaviour, Draco slightly backed up, but the next moment he smiled, falling in step with ease.

"Should I understand that MacNair is not enough for you? You seem well and truly lost. What's happening baby?"

But his taunts, far from repelling Harry, seemed only to fuel his desire. The brunet pressed closer to him, rubbing shamelessly against his crotch, his tongue lapping the blonde's neck. Draco frowned this time. This was not normal. He took Harry's chin between his fingers and lifted his head toward his. It was now obvious: the glazed eyes, the silly smile on his lips. Draco's face fell, his confident air vanishing at once.

Words slipped out of his mouth in a whisper, "Harry, what are doing to yourself?"

Harry with his foolish smile and his lost eyes couldn't even process the words.

Then, Draco seemed to fall out of his torpor, and abruptly let go of the brunet. But the exchange was not over. Harry sought release, his body craved it, and while Draco tried to distance himself, Harry moved even closer.

"Come on, you know you want to," Harry breathed, his voice dripping with desire.

This wasn't Harry talking; it was the drugs, the monster inside demanding satisfaction.

Draco for once dropped the act and seemed genuinely concerned.

"Right, right… Why don't you go get some fresh air?" he said, pushing Harry away, but Harry would not let go.

"No, no, no…" he protested, his green hazy eyes fixed on him, entranced. "I feel pretty good… right… here," and he pushed himself closer to him, pressing his pelvis against the blonde's crotch. The bold move earned him a surprised and lusty stare.

Draco was not impervious to his charm after all.

"I never seduced you… really… I didn't even have to try… " Harry murmured, his words flowing out of his mouth like fire, "… for you were always mine…"

His voice sounded too free and wild not to be speaking the truth, and Draco seemed to know it too. At least, he didn't dare deny it. Then Harry's burning forehead was pressing against his cheek, the hot lips trailing on the soft skin under his chin.

"I can have you… whenever I want to," the brunet slurred.

Draco seemed to fight with himself, his hands gripping the ramp behind him, and when he spoke again, it was with great effort, "A bit full of yourself, aren't you? Didn't know you had it in yourself…"

Harry chuckled. The movement tingled the blonde's skin, then fingers slipped under his shirt. Harry was decidedly too good at that, it seemed the tables had turned and Draco was for once at Harry's mercy.

"I learnt from the best."

And with that, Harry latched onto his earlobe, nipping and biting, but then Draco's hands gripped his hair and pulled. Harry winced, his head wrenched back. They both panted, confusion marring their faces. It was an unreal, uncertain moment, but instead of pushing Harry away, Draco pulled him back against him. Their lips were a hair's breadth away, the kiss imminent, then Draco uttered a single word,

"MacNair."

Harry took a moment before reacting, "What has he got to do-" and then MacNair was next to them, and Draco pushed Harry from him and into MacNair's arms.

Draco was the first to speak up.

"You satisfy him so little that he has to seek me out to find release. So sad."

"Harry's confused," MacNair bit out. "He's drunk."

"Yes? And why the hell did he get in such a state, I wonder?"

MacNair scowled at him. He pulled Harry close to his chest, ready to defend himself, but Draco's words were forgotten as he felt Harry's reaction against his thigh. He grinned then and took advantage of Harry's good disposition to fondle his backside. The demonstration was all for Draco's benefit. Harry melted against his will, but his submission was an open invitation and MacNair wouldn't deny himself such a gift. He slammed the brunet against the wall and bit his neck. A moan. Then Harry put his hands on the broad shoulders to lever himself, wrapping his leg against a muscled thigh. He needed to get off, his skin hyper sensitive, ready for action.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Draco's scornful sneer. Harry wasn't disturbed by it; his mind couldn't even process the thought, driven as he was by sex and release. MacNair's carnal desire was exhilarating. Tempting whimpers pooled out of the brunet's mouth. MacNair chuckled and dragged Harry to the first door he saw, which turned out to be a study. A last glance at Draco and Harry disappeared from view. Now alone with MacNair he was lifted without gentleness over the closest surface: the desk. MacNair pulled Harry's trousers down with a violent gesture - a cry of surprise - and spread the smooth thighs apart. Despite the little voice in the back of his head yelling that something was wrong, Harry was elated: release was close. To the hell with love and feelings. The last thing he was conscious of was the sound of MacNair's buckle clanging against the desk.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 1, 2005**

Men and women dressed to the nines, black and white everywhere, shawls, long gloves and pearls. Eyes lost in emptiness, Harry descended the grand stairs, his head filled with the beautifully haunting soprano voice of Violetta, pouring out her heart on her death bed, crying for the love she sacrificed. La Traviata. Another tragic love story, too close to home.

MacNair jerked his elbow as they reached the last steps.

"Why this sullen mood? This is only opera."

Harry forced a smile and tightened his fingers around the man's upper arm to reassure him.

"I'm fine. It was wonderful, I'm still entranced by the beauty of it," he said, a longing in his voice.

MacNair answered his sad expression and retorted in a cheerful tone, "I'm glad you liked it. We should do this more often. I realize I'm not as available to you as I should be. "

"You're a busy man indeed."

"Yes, but it's not an excuse to neglect you."

They reached the opened door of the limo. Peter, the driver, was waiting for them to enter, his gloved hand on the door.

"Did you enjoy the play?" he asked, a jovial grin on his face.

"Yes thank you," Harry replied pleasantly. Next to him, MacNair kept his mouth shut, clearly disapproving the man's familiarity. His cold stare rid Peter of his smile.

They slipped inside, Harry first, then MacNair, the two distant on the large black leather chairs. Harry looked absently out the window, his hands resting on the couch. The driver slammed the door close and drove off. The leather squeaked while MacNair made himself more comfortable.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

"Hmm..." Harry responded absently.

"Hey..." MacNair softly squeezed the brunet's hand, "I don't like you shutting me out."

Harry didn't answer.

"If something's bothering you, I want you to tell me about it."

Harry turned his head to him and tiredly shut his eyes, before mumbling a small "It's nothing, really, I..."

"Is it about Draco again?" MacNair sharply interrupted.

"What? Wh...?"

Again, MacNair abruptly cut him off, "I won't let you make a fool of me."

The change of tone had been sudden and it only angered Harry. MacNair's hand tightened around the brunet's fingers, and Harry erupted, "But there's nothing going on! He wants nothing to do with me!"

MacNair's voice softened then, but it was no less a dangerous tone.

"What about you?" he asked.

Harry's eyes drifted away, as he shook his head. "It was over before it even started."

It was hard to admit, but his relationship with Draco was hopeless from the beginning.

"I don't believe you."

Harry's eyes narrowed then.

"I don't care if you do or not!" he snapped.

"Watch your tone," MacNair hissed, "You do not want to anger me."

"Why? What you're gonna do?"

This time, Harry wrenched his hand from the man's grip. He looked at the back of Peter's neck in the driver's seat.

"Peter, stop the car!" he shouted.

The man's head jerked. He took a look at the rear view mirror, hesitant.

"Oh no, you won't!" MacNair roared. "Keep driving!"

But Harry wouldn't let him have his way. He opened the car's door in a swift move, the rush of air tousling his hair. MacNair's eyes widened; the car stopped abruptly; the breaks screeched. Indifferent to the danger, Harry stepped out of the limo, the honks moaning around him as the cars rolled by. Harry ran across the street, the cars turning or stopping to avoid him, while MacNair yelled his name from inside the limo.

On the pavement, Harry kept walking with furious steps, tightening his jacket against him. In a daze, he braved the crowd of strangers gathered in front of the pubs, the headlights and the anonymous silhouettes blending around him. He could disappear, flee and hide, be forgotten again…

Suddenly, he heard another commotion. The limo had made a u-turn and stopped a few meters from him. An enraged MacNair got out of the car, a threatening finger pointed at him.

"Harry! Come back immediately!"

The brunet glanced briefly at him but he turned a deaf ear to the calls and quickened his steps.

"Don't you turn your back on me!" he heard.

A few people stared at Harry on his way, then his arm was grabbed from behind and MacNair was right in front of him. He expected yells, or even a slap, but MacNair just stared at him with fierce eyes. The sound of the cars speeding past them, the chattering around them. MacNair pulled Harry closer.

"What's got into you?" he asked.

So many things, but right now, Harry didn't have a clue. He was just fed up and he didn't want to pretend this time.

"I don't want to talk," he said, but it came out no louder than a whisper.

"What did you say?" MacNair asked, pulling him yet again closer to him.

"Hey! You need help?" a man offered gawkily, stepping out from a pub.

Harry didn't want to make a scene so he reassured him with an "It's alright." Not loud enough apparently, because the next moment, two of the man's friends came to join them.

This could go stupidly wrong, so Harry stepped away, trying to take the conversation aside, but MacNair mistook the gesture and yelled some more, "That's enough, you're coming with me!"

"Hey mate, calm the fuck down!" one of the men interjected, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Yeah, let the man go!" the first shouted.

It could have stopped there if MacNair hadn't exploded in an exasperated reaction.

"Piss off," he barked, "it's none of your fucking business!"

Then the face of the man with the cigarette turned furious and the next second he pounced. MacNair saw it coming. He grabbed the man's wrist with one arm and his neck with the second, pinning him against his torso. The poor man twisted but couldn't get free. Another one came to his defence, violently breaking his beer against MacNair's head. The blow had been terrible and MacNair let out a broken cry, letting go of his victim. Harry intervened then and outstretched his hands in a protective gesture, while Peter ran to help them, but the excitement of the fight and the alcohol bolstering them, the three men were ready to strike again. MacNair was bent over, rubbing his neck, when suddenly, one of the men froze. His eyes widened and then, he shouted something that would haunt Harry and no doubt MacNair and Peter for a long time.

"Fuck me; it's one of the freaks!"

Harry hadn't heard that awful word in a while, protected as he was in the gangster circle.

"He has the alien mark on him! He's one of them!"

The shouts alerted the people around and inevitably provoked a riot. Soon, Harry and his two companions were surrounded by an excited crowd. Harry looked at these unknown faces, there was a crazy glint in their eyes, this sort of insane glow only galvanized crowds could show.

"I heard they heal real fast!" a feminine voice exclaimed.

"Let's take them down!" another shouted.

Someone stepped up to MacNair with the clear intention of hurting him. Instinctively, Harry interposed himself.

"Stop!"

He looked at their dull eyes, they didn't even seem conscious of their acts. Then, he was lifted from the ground by two burly men. Kicking his legs wildly, he thrashed in their arms, but they wouldn't let go. One of them grabbed his hair and yanked his head hard. The next moment, the man let go of him, his face blank.

"He's normal. There's nothing on his neck..."

Harry was put down abruptly. He turned around to face them, seething.

"What are you doing with these creeps?" one of the men asked with an odd naivety in his voice.

"You're the fucking creep!" Harry yelled. "What the hell's wrong with you? It's because of people like you wars start! Look at you!"

There were whispers, agitation, as if everybody was waiting for someone else to take the lead, eying each other. Then a can of soda exploded on the wall, a few centimetres from Harry's head and the fight broke out again. Harry saw the crowd erupting in slow motion, people moving as one man with a roar, or maybe it was just in his head... How he wished he could escape his body once again... Then a loud bang startled him and his head jerked toward the centre of the scene.

MacNair's arm was outstretched toward the sky, towering over the mob encircling him, a smoking gun in his hand. Shouts ensued. Everybody froze and cowered, their eyes wide with fear. MacNair lowered his arm, sweeping it right and left, pointing at each and every one of his stunned attackers. His lips were tight, his stare cold. Harry looked at his finger shaking slightly on the trigger; he knew he was itching to shoot. MacNair was not a man to let himself be humiliated without retaliation.

Harry stopped breathing, a sudden dread gripping his heart.

"Walden, please," he let out in a breath.

The man didn't move an inch. Harry held out his hand slowly to him, for fear a sudden move would provoke him.

"Please, this is madness. They're not worth it."

The people around them looked like frightened rabbits, trembling on their feet. In all his silent anger, MacNair looked like a king, his imposing figure, his strong stance dominating the scene. The blood on his neck and the alcohol dripping on his suit didn't spoil the picture.

"Please," Harry pleaded, "let's go home."

Maybe it was the softness of his voice, the familiarity the word "home" awoke in him, but MacNair finally acknowledged Harry.

"Alright," he said atone.

He lowered his arm. Around them, people were whispering, containing themselves. It could all blow up again in a minute. Harry gestured for Peter to move the car. The man ran and with two strides, Harry closed the distance between MacNair and himself. He gently rested his hand on his back. It felt like a battle field, the two sides waiting for the break point. All the sounds were threatening in this cold night: the murmurs, the start of the motor, the wheels slowly turning, as if stretching the tension in the air.

Harry pulled MacNair by the arm the moment the car stopped next to them. They were inside in a few seconds.

"You're okay" Peter sighed, "I should... I should have called someone, but I didn't know... I thought I should help you myself, but without a gun... I could... I could have taken the one in the glove box, but I'm not... comfortable with, I mean... I'm not..."

The poor boy couldn't even form a complete sentence. Harry put an end to his torment.

"You did fine Pete. Now take us away, okay."

The driver looked conflicted, still shaken and sorry, but he complied anyway. Harry looked warily to the crowd behind the tinted windows; all the hateful stares turned to them, like disfigured monsters. Then, the moment they drove away, something hit the car with a loud thud. Then a bottle splashed on the windscreen, spilling its liquid over the glass. Cups and cans flew, crashing on the roof, the windows, everywhere. Peter activated the wipers but it only spread the dirt and alcohol across the screen. The despicable act covered them with shame. MacNair's jaws tightened and he turned his head to the grimacing faces. His window was suddenly lowered.

Harry covered his ears, he shouted something, but it was muted by the noise; Peter's shoulders sagged, and the pub's frontage exploded into a million of pieces, the metal framework and the lamps sparkling under the shots.

The window closed, MacNair turned his stare to the road, his hand with the gun on his lap, and it was over.

Had someone been hurt? Impossible to say. They were too many people gathered around, and they were far now.

Harry parted his shaky hands from his ears and stayed a moment transfixed by MacNair's stone face, his profile so strong and cold. The stranger he shared a bed with. Five minutes later, his head was lolling against the man's shoulder, his mind a million miles from the street.

.

That night, when he recovered his senses, Harry found MacNair in the semi-obscurity of their room, his tired silhouette standing out against the window, his back to him. Harry observed him and pondered about their previous altercation.

"We should go somewhere... a land, far away..." MacNair's poised voice sounded so loud in the room. "Forget about this parody of life."

Harry lifted his head and took a step forward. He liked the sound of that... so close to his own thoughts. He stood behind MacNair, waiting to hear more.

"We were so great back then. Now we're just pretending to be." The man half turned to Harry. "We should go, you and me, find a place to belong."

His eyes met Harry's and they gazed at each other as if they were meeting for the first time. It felt right, so Harry reached out to him and put a kiss on his lips. It wasn't forced; he needed it, this connection. Someone who would feel the same loneliness and loss, to share his destiny if only for a moment. They padded toward the bed, and let themselves fall into each other's arms.

MacNair lifted his head and looked at the man panting under him. It was a deep stare, one that talked about intimacy, sorrow and understanding.

"Harry Potter..." he whispered with wonder, the words meaning more than a simple name.

He kissed Harry again and they drowned in the sweet embrace. A passing but true embrace.

Tomorrow, it would be forgotten.

* * *

luvurlifeluvedwardc: I couldn't answer your review since you disabled the private messages... So, I'm very glad the story moves you and I'm really sorry for the delay, but hey, that's life. If I could sit all day and write, I'd be happy, but unfortunately, I can't. And to answer your question, we're halfway through the story, there will be 20 more chapters I think, so there's a long way to go still!

Ladtheove: Thank you, you're too sweet! Well I think Draco suffers enough already. He seems cold and indifferent, but it's just a defense mecanism. Both boys have hurt, and been hurt. There's a lot of incomprehension and bitterness at this point, but they just need to put the past behind and accept each other for who they are... Not an easy thing to do.

thefuzz: Thank you! I hope you liked the chapter.


	24. Skin and Gut

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing MsLefay. Thank you for your precious help!

* * *

**CHAPTER 23 : SKIN AND GUT**

**April 4, 2005**

A loud noise. Raised voices in the corridor. Lying in his comfortable bed, Harry emerged from under the covers, his cheek buried in his pillow. He opened his right eye toward the shut door. It was too early. His body was still numb with slumber. He slid his arm on the warm sheet, his hand inert, palm opened. He didn't want to move just yet. It was the second night he'd spent alone and he had never slept so well. He heard yells, something about unsuccessful business, failure, accusations.

MacNair was home.

Harry didn't know what had happened at the Cabo. McCarthy had been involved it was certain, but MacNair hadn't filled Harry in. There had been no allusion to it, no change in his demeanour, but the sudden outburst outside his room told him the League had been shattered.

The voices died down. Harry closed his eyes and turned his head away, spreading his legs over the empty side of the bed.

His room was smaller than the one at the Manor but it was warmer too. It was the same system: his room for his private time and MacNair's next to it to spend their nights together. He had his own bathroom, a table used as a bureau, a white iron bed with a sumptuous mattress, a black down duvet and luxurious black and white pillows, a tall mirrored armoire and a chest both half-empty.

Suddenly, sounds disrupted the peace of his room, the door opened and footsteps came close to the bed. Harry moaned to make the noise go away. A chuckle then a soft hand smoothed his hair. It felt good. A voice spoke in his ear, tingling pleasantly.

"Treasure, I'm sorry. I just arrived and already I have to go. Those incompetents can't do anything alone… But I won't be long, I promise."

And with a kiss on Harry's cheek, he was gone.

Harry finally left his room in late morning, soft trousers and a large shirt slung on. He expected to hear chatters or argument but the flat was dead silent. Not a sound. He padded inside the kitchen, put the kettle on the hob and took out a cup for tea. The soft sound of the fridge buzzed eerily in the empty room. It was strange to be alone like that. MacNair never left him by himself in their flat. The situation had to be graver than what he'd been told.

With his empty cup in hand, he entered the living-room, a vast square space, so symmetric with the aligned paintings on the walls, the right-angled furniture and the exposed beams on the ceiling. The room seemed even bigger than usual, deserted as it was. Bored and in a leisure mood, Harry scuffed along the room with a low hum, running his hand on the corner of the sideboard. He stopped in front of the window. Both hands encasing his cup, he tapped against the porcelain, looking at the grim sky. The view inevitably altered his mood, and his mind wandered again, his shoulder slumped against the glass. He slid a finger against the cold window, drawing a sinuous pattern. The squeaking noise was almost soothing in this silence.

"What a waste… " he whispered.

He distantly heard the whistling of the kettle and turned away from the window to go back to the kitchen when he saw him. The cup fell from his hands and shattered on the floor with an awful sound.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

Draco smiled innocently, concealed he was in the corner of the room, quietly seated on a tufted armchair.

"What you're doing here?" Harry spat.

"Is this a way to greet your guests?"

"You weren't invited."

He hadn't even noticed the sound of the kettle had stopped when Greyback made his appearance.

"Hey! Finally up? You took your sweet time, pup."

Harry jerked his head toward him, growing more tense and nervous by the minute.

"Don't call me that! What is he doing here?" he said, nodding toward Draco. "You're not supposed to let anyone in!"

"Well I'm not anyone," he heard Draco retort mockingly.

Harry pretended not to hear, his angry eyes set on Greyback.

"I had to talk to Peter," Greyback replied with a shrug.

"And you just leave him alone like that, free to sneak around and do… who knows what."

"Chill out," Greyback said in a dismissive tone as he sat on the couch, "I was out for two minutes."

"You're useless."

The disdainful words were enough to break Greyback's nonchalance. The man straightened on his seat.

"Watch your fucking place. You feel all mighty 'cause you've got the boss wrapped around your finger, but you're nothing more than his _bitch_,_"_ he snarled, emphasizing the word with a mean pleasure. "You don't get to order me around, got it?"

It was all the more painful that Draco was only a few steps behind him.

Harry kept it all inside. A fight with this animal would be pointless.

"Where's Walden?" he said unemotionally.

Greyback smiled with arrogance, taking his time before answering.

"He left early. A problem to take care of."

_Oh yes, the Vanderberghs._

Harry felt Draco's eyes on him, eagerly watching his reactions. Harry wouldn't give him the pleasure of a glance. "I don't need to be here then," he announced tiredly. "I'll be in my room."

In the safety of his quarters, Harry could breathe again.

He didn't want a fix right now. The fact that Draco was there, a few feet from him, made him all the more conscious of his decline.

He plopped down onto his bed and rested his head on his pillow, trying to project himself into the future. It was harder and harder to imagine any way out of his situation. He couldn't see anything outside the gangster world he had been thrown into. No one would help him now. Not Draco. Not Snape. He hadn't heard from the man in months. He had gone by his shop a month ago and had been stunned to find the 'Closing down' sign. Snape had vanished without warning. He had no one. The only friends that remained were in danger because of him and the only way he could help was by staying away.

Harry scrubbed his eyes and emptied his mind. He would prepare himself a fix the moment Draco left.

A few minutes went by when, without warning, his door opened. Draco entered nonchalantly, looking around the room with a critical eye. Here it comes, another bashing session.

Harry turned his head heavily.

"Get out," he mumbled coldly.

The blonde closed the door behind him and leaned his back on it.

"You told them, didn't you? I know you can't give me any details but it would be fair to give me a heads up."

Harry buried his nose against his pillow. "I'm not up for this."

Draco took a step forward. "I'm just curious. Will I have the right to a trial or will it be yet another execution on the pavement."

"Neither okay?" Harry said tiredly. "He doesn't know about you."

Eyes on the ceiling, Draco approached, moving his feet slowly as if amusing himself.

"I almost forgot," he said in a sarcastic tone. "It's your thing. You tell me you're on my side, that you have nothing to do with the Division and then you stab me in the back."

Harry had it with these endless discussions.

"Yes, you're right. I'm lying again, I have it all planned," he said, sitting up on the edge on the bed.

He looked up at Draco with his big eyes, and the obvious contempt he saw on this chiseled face upset him even more.

"How did it feel to grass on me?" the blonde bit out, "I bet they congratulated you, a good pat on the back, 'Good job Potter'. Tell me!"

Harry turned his head away but a sudden slap pulled him out of his daze. It hadn't hurt much, it wasn't meant to. Draco wanted him to elicit a reaction out of him. He hovered over Harry with a domineering expression. The brunet looked at him deadpan and moved his head back, lips sealed. Draco didn't yield and slapped him again.

"Huh, are you proud of yourself?"

He was about to hit Harry again but the brunet pushed his hand away and rose, butting his torso against Draco's. They sized each other up like that for a few seconds, but no one would go further. There was no real threat there.

Harry knew what he had to do.

He walked around the blonde and into the bathroom. Then, he crouched down next to the bathtub, Draco observing him from afar, perplexed. Harry moved one of the tiles that covered the rectangular block surrounding the tub and hit it firmly. He turned the square slate a bit and pulled to remove it completely. He plunged his hand into the hole, and when it reappeared, it held a dark plastic bag. Harry arose and removed the elastic band surrounding the package. He walked back in the room, looking at Draco with fury in his eyes. He couldn't shout at him but his voice was heavy with anger and reproach.

"If I wanted to do you in, don't you think I would have given them this by now?"

There, he slammed the package on Draco's chest. The blonde looked down at his hands with a curious expression. He manipulated the bag with uncertainty, his hands opening it hesitantly. When he saw the content, he gaped.

A red notebook and a blue one. Around them, a golden chain. With one finger, he lifted the trinket, the key hanging in front of his eyes. He examined it as if it were a treasure before resting his eyes on Harry again. The brunet spoke then.

"Take it back, it's all yours."

For once, Draco looked at loss for what to say. "But I'd taken it back from you," he whispered in a faraway voice, "and the explosion…"

"I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I wasn't ready… " Harry couldn't look at him. Emotion was surging inside him like a tidal wave, threatening to surface again, and he didn't want to break now.

Draco wasn't more eloquent, silent and still in front of him.

"I told you," Harry defended in a last attempt to convince Draco of his innocence, "I'm not the one who warned them. I don't even work for the damn Division. I work for a man named McCarthy, you're familiar with him I recall."

Draco's eyes sharpened at the simple mention of the name.

"He's his own team now, playing justice with his little armada. I don't know how he did it, I swear! I stopped everything once I realized…" He ended in a whisper, "… that I loved you… and I… " He stopped, not trusting his voice at this point. He ran a nervous hand through his hair and started when he felt another clasp his wrist. He lifted his head: Draco was staring at him with a strange expression, both sad, confused and… tender.

But it wasn't right. Harry was angry. Draco had been unfair, doubting him, toying with him.

He wrenched his hand away from his grip, but the blonde didn't let himself be detered: he moved closer to Harry and brushed his neck. Again, Harry evaded his touch, turning his head sideway with a pained look. Draco wasn't fooled. It was a half-hearted protest so he advanced on Harry once more and grabbed his neck firmly this time.

Harry retained his breath, his eyes misted, and then the world tipped upside down. He was falling and Draco was holding him tightly. A dreamlike sensation. The second he realized Draco had pushed him onto the bed, covering him with his body, his breath was stolen from him in the most delightful rapture. The taste in his mouth, the way Draco kept stroking his neck and his weight on him… it felt even better than he remembered.

Because it was real.

Sprawled across the bed, their bodies moulded against each other like Siamese, their hands snaking together and their legs entwined. Harry ended the kiss a moment, lifting a trembling hand to reach Draco's face. He rested it almost reverently against the golden cheek. Feeling the softness of the skin, he let out a content breath, mesmerized as though he couldn't believe it. Draco didn't move, letting him explore his face in sweet recognition. Their eyes met again and a second later, their mouths literally entered in collision. It was passionate and desperate. They knew what they had almost lost, and they wouldn't miss another breath. They were rediscovering one another, running their hands under their shirts, caressing every inch of skin they reached, the familiar curves and scents, relearning the language of their bodies with ease.

Draco pulled his jacket off with hasty movements, his eyes fixed on Harry with a searing desire. Harry lowered the blonde's trousers and his own with the same need. They were aware of the risk they were taking with Greyback in the house, yet they couldn't stop. Harry repressed a cry when he felt the blonde's hand on his cock, the warm massage driving him out of his mind. He dipped his head against the bed cover, letting out a sigh of pleasure, and a sudden laugh sprung from his mouth. A genuine laugh of mirth. He lifted his head again to catch Draco's lips, swallowing his tongue and sucking on his lips with so much hunger it felt like he could eat him whole. Draco laughed upon his mouth and seized Harry's shoulders to pin him against the bed anew.

"You drive me nuts, you know that?" he asked. "I never know if I should beat you up…_Hm_… or fuck you silly."

Harry shot him a mischievous glance "Looks like to me you've made your choice."

Then Draco gripped his wrists firmly. "I wouldn't be so sure," he teased with a smirk.

Harry tried to move his arms, but Draco held him strongly. He made another attempt, grunting with effort. "Do you give up?" Draco asked.

"Never," Harry answered, and then he hooked his legs over the blonde's hips and pulled Draco against him, rolling his hips and rubbing himself against his length.

"Playing dirty?" the blonde moaned.

But it was effective. He loosened his hold and Harry took advantage to free himself and bite Draco's ear, his hands buried in the golden strands. The blond cried in pain for good measure and covered Harry with his body in a warm embrace. Then the fever rose again, and their hands caressed and pulled and pushed like wrestlers in a ring.

Draco breathed hard against Harry's neck, then his hands lifted the lightweight body under him so he could reach the tight entrance. All at once his fingers were inside Harry, prodding and twisting with dexterity. It didn't last long, they had to be quick. Draco spat onto his hands and something bigger pressed against the brunet's arse. Harry welcomed him with delight, hardly offering any resistance. He bit his lips. Draco mumbled something, a curse word maybe, then he moved with frenzy, the want urgent and the completion so close already after so much pumped up tension and desire.

It felt perfect, so different from the routine Harry had got used to with MacNair. He couldn't let go though. There was danger outside of the room. So he swallowed the cries of pleasure that threatened to emanate and clung to Draco, pressing his fingers against the muscled back to compensate, his fingernails planted on the white shirt. Harry's heels dug against Draco's arse, encouraging him to go deeper. Draco obliged, gripping the bed's edge to lever himself and speed up his thrusts.

It was wild. They were taking and giving all they had.

The pleasure was too overwhelming and Harry moaned loudly, carried away by the intensity of it. Draco fucked him with abandon, their bodies moving closer to the edge with the force of his thrusts. Harry was seeing stars, his head now hanging off the bed, when another moan escaped him. This time, Draco covered his mouth to shut him up, not once slowing their coupling. The salty tang of the palm on his lips and his restricted breath only heightened Harry's excitation. The rustling of their clothes and the slight creaking of the bed sounded suddenly very loud as they tried to keep silent.

Harry blinked, looking at Draco as if he were on the brink of collapse. Draco plunged his head against his neck and his voice came out as a muffle.

"Are you still mine?"

Harry heard him however. He grabbed the blonde's collar and held it tight.

"Yes," he whispered before closing his eyes, letting Draco travel his tongue up his chin.

The taste of the forbidden, fucking like that under MacNair's roof, the short delay and their flesh mingling at last: it was too much and the completion was close. Draco tried to hold it as long as he could, grimacing and palming Harry with increasing speed.

_Almost there… Almost…_

Then Harry came, spilling over the blonde's hand, his head falling on the edge of the bed. Soon Draco followed: he lifted his torso, his back arched majestically then his body froze and it was done.

Harry put a hand over his eyes, exhaling a deep breath, sated but exhausted. He peered between his fingers and saw a disheveled Draco with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Harry smiled at the picture.

It had finally happened. Draco and him reunited again. It was hard to believe.

His joyful face illuminated the room and Draco couldn't help but smile in turn. Draco rose and was about to take a tissue from the box on the bed table but Harry grasped his hand midway. His eyes riveted on his, he began licking his fingers clean one by one, collecting the white drops in his mouth. Draco looked mesmerized by the sight of his lover so debauched in front of him. Harry straightened up and ran his tongue against the blonde's mouth. It revived the lust in Draco's eyes and the latter shoved him back on the bed. Draco stole his lips in a languid kiss then rested his forehead against his, eyes closed.

"I want you to stop."

Harry didn't immediately catch the meaning of his words. Did Draco want him to stop playing the mole for McCarthy?

"You know I can't," he answered, bemused.

Draco opened his eyes, his stare implacable and his face concentrated. "I'm not talking about that." He let a silence pass. Harry frowned, uncomprehending, before it dawned on him. His eyes drifted away, shame preventing him to defend himself or argue.

"I'm not blind," Draco said in a firm voice. "And if I give you a second chance, I won't let you destroy it."

Draco had detected his dependence. Harry had suspected he'd noticed, he had been so careless about it, but at the time, he had thought the blond would think nothing of it, wouldn't care enough about him to do so. By expressing his concern, he proved that Harry meant something to him.

Harry frowned in what he attempted to be a dismissive expression. "This is nothing serious. I can stop whenever I want." Draco didn't buy it though, and Harry felt very nervous about it. His addiction was far from harmless. So he kept on. "I needed it, ok, with MacNair, the League… McCarthy. And you didn't make it easier on me, you were so cold and… and cruel." The memories of the last weeks came back to him, pain and anger at the edge of his voice. "As if I hadn't been punished enough already. I thought you were dead! And I was alone, and…"

Draco's eyes softened and he shushed Harry by brushing his cheek. He swept a tear away. The brunet hadn't even realized he'd been crying.

"I know."

Harry wet his lips and spoke with a soft voice, "I don't need drugs anymore."

And he believed it. With Draco at his side, he would be strong enough to overcome. How hard he wanted to believe that.

They kissed again, slowly, trying to keep the taste of each other on their tongues. Draco smoothed Harry's dark hair down, his features somber all of a sudden.

"I should go."

Back to reality.

"The idea of getting you in trouble by sneaking into your room was tempting ten minutes ago, but now I'm not so sure anymore... "

Harry's eyebrows creased. "Nooooo, I don't want you to leave."

Now that they were finally together, Draco's absence appeared intolerable. The mere idea of MacNair touching his body after him was repulsive.

"I know, but I have to."

Draco peered at Harry with a rare intensity. For him too the situation had to be difficult. To let his lover back in the arms of a loathed enemy, leaving him behind without knowing what would happen between these walls. Ignorance would be his cross to bear. Harry mustn't make the separation harder than it already was. He nodded, his throat constricted with pain.

Draco untangled himself and went to the bathroom to wash his hands and splash his nape with water. Back in the bedroom he dressed rapidly, hiding his rumpled shirt and the traces of their activity under his jacket.

Harry watched him silently. He hated those moments after love, when the man got dressed in haste before leaving. It felt so definitive, like a closure.

Draco rearranged his hair neatly and then gently took Harry's face between his hands.

"I'll be back," he murmured. "I promise. But I need time…"

The sudden turnaround made Harry pale, but Draco smiled. He rubbed the brunet's arm in a comforting motion. "It's not simple, but I'm here. You're not alone."

Harry worried his lips and turned his eyes sideway. The soothing words did nothing to sweep his fears away.

"What are we going to do?"

No answer came. Draco heard a noise behind the door and put a finger against his lips, his body still. Silence. Draco moved quickly, grabbing his notebooks and hiding them inside his jacket. After a last kiss, he rushed off and closed the door cautiously, Harry's question hanging in the air.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry was alone in his room, replaying the scene of his reunion with Draco through his head with an endless fascination. He was still shivering from the experience. He looked outside of the window, it was night already. The day had flown by, and nothing had imprinted on his mind but the image of his regained lover. There were a few passers-by but the street was calm. He looked at the clock.

00:41

It suddenly hit him: MacNair had not come home all day. The bedside lamp was the only source of light in the room. The main lighting gave him a headache. Harry sat on the windowsill, his knee trembling. If he wanted to start the coming off the drugs he had to do it now, get rid of his stash and, of course, talk to MacNair about it. How would the man react to the news? He would probably take a good laugh at him...

The shady room was silent when he heard the door open. He got off his perch to greet the man, a circumstantial smile on his face.

"You're home late, everything went like you expected?"

MacNair's figure was impressive on the threshold, his back to the bright light shining from the corridor. He moved forward, his steps heavy, an unreadable expression on his face. His hoarse voice resounded like a blow, "I don't know, you tell me."

MacNair was on him in an instant. Harry, confused, lifted his eyes to look at him and the next moment, the man's hand closed around his arm with painful strength. The anger boiling behind the black irises terrorized him. Something was terribly wrong.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in a high-pitched voice, eyes wide.

"I heard Draco came by today," MacNair spat.

"Yes, so what?"

MacNair tightened his grip and Harry could feel the pain seize him all the way to his shoulder.

"I know he sneaked into your room," MacNair continued, closing in on him.

Now Harry could smell his breath heavy with alcohol and it only amplified his fears. He retorted as calmly as possible, "What are you insinuating?"

MacNair gritted his teeth and barked, "I think it's clear enough."

Harry tried to free himself but MacNair's hold was too strong. The man was too close to him, too agitated. Harry panicked.

"Nothing happened! You're being paranoid!"

MacNair's hand fell on him in a flash, the strike so violent Harry lost his balance and fell.

"You're lying!" the man yelled. "I warned you! I expressly forbid you to let him in your room, you slut!"

Harry was on his arse and elbows on the floor, his cheek reddened by the blow. He fixed MacNair with terror in his eyes. He had never witnessed such fury in the man. At loss to what to do, he backed up toward the wall. The other was bent forward, ready to pounce, his large form looming above him.

A desperate cry "Nothing happened, I swear!"

But MacNair had made up his mind and refused to listen to him. He bent over and grabbed Harry by the hair, pulling him upward brutally. The brunet yelped in pain.

"You think you can play me like you played him?" MacNair accused with perfidy, "I know minxes like you, wiggling their arses for everyone to see, chasing for a good catch. And now that your playboy is back, you think you can ditch me like that?" He moved closer still, his eyes glistening, "You're dreaming."

Harry knew what was awaiting him, but he wasn't going to let him have his way without a fight: he grabbed the meaty hands clinging to his hair and squeezed hard trying to make the man let go. His attempt was futile. He was twice his size, it was an uneven fight.

"Stop!" he shouted. "You don't know what you're doing, you're drunk!"

It was the wrong thing to say.

MacNair went wild and hit him full force in the face, propelling him backwards. Harry's head banged on the wall with a sickening sound and he fell like a rag doll to the floor. MacNair was past the point of caring. He launched at him and tore his shirt off. Harry was unable to react, his eyes rolling in their sockets, completely stunned. He felt hands on him, his body being roughly manipulated, but his brain couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"After this, you won't forget who you belong to."

Harry's head turned dully to the side as he tried to speak, but all that came out was a gurgle. He coughed, his body wriggling despite MacNair's brutal undressing. His eyes shut as he tried to recover from the shock, his hands rising and pushing against MacNair weakly, easily batted away by the strong man lying atop him. He could hear MacNair's groans and mumbled insults, and then he shivered, his naked skin uncovered against the cold parquet.

His eyes flew to the floor, empty.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

When he regained his senses, Harry was naked on the bed, under the covers.

How much time had passed?

What had happened again?

_Oh yes…_

A few seconds sufficed for him to remember the exact events of the night. His battered body remembered itself to him also. He should have hardened himself more than that. After all he had gone through worse.

But this way, revengeful, with the rage and desire to hurt, no.

He felt MacNair's regular breathing upon his back. The sensation of that body beside him, in the same bed, sleeping as if nothing was amiss, turned his stomach. His soft snoring was mocking him. Harry's whole being urged him to take action, to burst or resort to drastic action, yet he could only lay there. Keep quiet when all he wanted was to shout. He carefully lifted the cover's corner and slid softly out of the bed, dreading awakening his attacker. Once sitting, he bent in half, smothering a whine. Inside, his whole body was screaming with pain. Unsteady, he padded with great difficulty in the direction of the bathroom, the pain burning him with each step, proof of him being solied. He opened the door softly, the creaking of the hinges provoking cold sweat and new shivers. He turned his head to watch MacNair's dark figure: the man was sound asleep, his torso rising up and down in slow rhythm. Harry sneaked inside and closed the door behind him.

He turned the handle closed, his back plastered against the door and covered his mouth with his hand, swallowing a cry. He felt helpless and ashamed. The way MacNair had used his body in the most vile domination made him feel even more dirty than when he was back in the slums, selling himself. How sick was that?

He pushed the switch on, the neon sizzling a few seconds before settling down. The light was cruel and clinical at that moment. He took three steps forward, his toes curling against the cold tiles, and peered in the mirror with apprehension: dried blood stains on his temple and in his hair, bruises on his shoulders. The reflection stopped at his waist and it was a good thing. Harry didn't want to look at his body. He wouldn't dare enter the shower for fear to wake the sleeping beast behind the door, so he took the wash cloth and put it under a trickle of water. He soaped it and ran it against his face, his eyes closely shut. He continued the soothing motion on his torso and his arms, twitching whenever the cotton scratched a haematoma. The cloth lowered on his belly, his tender hips, then on his posterior. A bite of the lips. Chin up.

_Do not look at the marks. It would make it too real. _

He scrubbed between his legs, harder and harder, forgetting the pain, insistent until his skin turned red. He knew he was clean but it didn't erase the sensation of filth building inside him. He rinsed the cloth and washed his whole body again, then repeated the operation a third time. Finally, he abandoned the cloth on the edge of the washbasin, the water plip-plopping on the floor.

Deep breathing. His hands closed in fists, tense and shivering, then he pressed his hands against the wall as if he wanted to punch it hard, but containing himself. He let his head fall forward, his forehead resting against the elegant ceramic in a defeated bow.

He knew he had promised Draco, but he couldn't. Not tonight. Not when it hurt so bad.

He opened the medicine cabinet and took out a little case. It was exactly what he needed. The operation was fast and easy, like routine. The sweet elixir invaded his veins and his body went lax. He slumped down the wall, his head falling back on it. A moment of peace.

It was only when he resurfaced minutes later, still seated on the blue tiles, that he realized the stupidity of his own action. True, it had allowed him to forget, but it only delayed the inevitable: the pain would come back stronger. He hit the back of his head against the wall, his face frozen in a grimace.

Another disgrace, another blow. How long could he still take it?

He ran a hand along his face and managed to calm himself down.

Draco had returned to him. Of that he had been blessed.

"You're not alone."

Draco's words. And like a mantra, he repeated them again and again.

.

In the morning, Harry lay in bed next to MacNair, his eyes shut and his tired body unmoving but he was well awake. Maybe the other would leave him alone.

He knew it couldn't be so easy.

He felt MacNair move, the mattress dipping some more when the man spooned him. His heavy arm came to encircle him and Harry pushed a feeble cry of stupor when he was pulled firmly against his torso. He felt MacNair's head against his nape, his standing prick against his ass. Nauseous, he closed his eyes and silently willed the man to stop. Luckily in this position MacNair couldn't see the disgust on his face. Next, MacNair's nose was on his shoulder. The man inhaled.

"You smell good" he croaked out in a hoarse voice.

Harry tensed, the cruel words and the sensations of last night still fresh in his mind and body. MacNair kissed the pale shoulder and placed his mouth against the brunet's ear. His voice reached Harry with the clarity and the intimacy that bore the shadow of soft spoken words whispered in one's lover's ear.

"Sweetheart, I came onto you a little strong yesterday, but don't be mad. I didn't mean what I said." A sigh. "It's..." he interrupted himself then with a grimace on his face, getting worked up again at the mere thought of the name, "the Vanderberghs, they keep eluding our plans, they should be out the picture by now! I was… I was frustrated. I went to a bar and three, four, five drinks later… you know how it is. I come home and Greyback tells me he saw Draco in your room that morning, I thought I would tear the house down. You understand?"

Harry felt like spitting in his face. The bastard expected him to forgive and forget like that! Just kiss it better?

"You're precious to me, you know that. I worry, that's all," continued MacNair softly.

The disguised excuse was on the same level as its author, pathetic and condescending. Harry didn't react though his eyes, unseen to MacNair, were burning with rage.

The man caressed his arm up and down and made a little "Hm?" He expected him to talk. Of course, Harry hadn't said a word since he awoke. He couldn't speak his mind anyway. MacNair was a proud and stubborn man. At best, he would reject him, but the mission would suffer from it. At worst, he would take it out on him again. Eyes lost in contemplation of the wall in front of him, Harry closed his eyes a moment, centring himself. Then with great effort, he took the man's hand and enlacing it around him, snuggled closer in his arms.

"Sleepy…" he mumbled.

MacNair kissed his shoulder again. "I'll let you rest then."

The couple rested in their room all morning in a false tranquillity, their bed made of lies and bitterness.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 12, 2005**

Harry had still to hear from Draco, and despite all his good intentions, he couldn't refrain from his consumption. To be in the expectative was torture and he started to wonder if Draco had changed his mind. He himself couldn't imagine a happy ending to their story, but he was dying to see Draco again nonetheless.

Since the aggression, MacNair treated him with kid gloves. Always paying attention to him, caresses, sweet words. He had even bought him a Rolex, nothing less. Harry spent almost all his nights alone in his room and surprisingly, MacNair did not protest. The rare times the latter joined him in bed, they would simply lie there in silence. Despite this reprieve, Harry was unable to block out his dark thoughts and lost himself into drugs again. He was so addicted he scared himself sometimes. And looking at the fine 'league of gentlemen' around him, MacNair slouched against his side and the Lestranges playing cards at the table, the idea of the coming off them seemed more and more illusory.

He wouldn't make it. Not this time.

He could do nothing without mainlining and his body could hardly cope anymore. His hands shook without control and he was getting more nervous and irritable with time. It was a warning.

Harry had been shivering against MacNair's arm for a moment now when the man turned to him and asked discretely, "Are you alright? Do you need a little upper?" Harry wrung his hands, sweat rolling down his neck. MacNair pushed a lock of Harry's hair behind his ear, looking at him with sincere concern. "Don't overindulge though, you've been looking out of sorts lately."

Harry nodded and tried to minimize things, "I'm fine, I I haven't taken anything since yesterday. I'm a bit on edge, that's all." Harry graced him with a smile, yet the pallor of his face and his glassy eyes told another story. "One rail and it'll pass."

But once he got in his room, it was already his second fix of the day. It was one in the afternoon.

At five, Harry was pacing around in circles and MacNair couldn't handle his agitation anymore, especially when millions of pounds were at stakes, notably with his last project to date: the take over of a casino in Brighton.

He stared at Harry and sighed for the third time. "Harry, I think a walk would do you some good."

Harry was visibly rearranging the display cabinet, moving and removing the diverse objects representing their recent accomplishments: a piece of fabric with the patch of a jackal sewn on it, the coat of arms of the Reds, a gang they eliminated; a rare coin, a money tree charm they had stolen from the late Triad of Eastbourne; a placket with the name of their new club, the Red Room, and other trophies.

He thought he had heard something so he lifted his head toward MacNair.

"What?"

MacNair quirked an eyebrow at him and repeated slowly, "Go get some air, you're making me dizzy. We'll be going over it for a while anyway."

"No, I want to be here," Harry protested.

"Harry, it wasn't a suggestion. Get out. Our associates will be here any minute and I don't want you in that state with them in the room. I'll call you when I'm done."

Harry was aware he was missing a golden opportunity to gather information. In addition to threatening his sanity and his relationship with Draco, drugs prevented him for achieving his mission too…

"Okay," he said low, like a punished child. He grabbed his jacket and started walking toward the exit door when MacNair called him, "Eh!"

Harry turned to MacNair who beckoned him to come closer. Harry complied and MacNair craned his neck to offer him his mouth. There was a slight reserve, then Harry bent forward and gave him a kiss. It was intended to be short but MacNair managed to slip his tongue between his lips and prolong the kiss. They parted at last, MacNair ending the exchange by a "You can go now," and a wink. An ineffective seductive technique. Harry faked a small smile in a last effort and left.

Harry had been wandering around the Westfield shopping centre for an hour now. He had foolishly hoped to find Draco there. Goyle would have followed him from the apartment exit, warning Draco of his departure, and the blonde would have surprised him a few minutes later in one of the alleys.

Disappointed, he left the premises, eying without interest the window shops on his way, when he caught sight of a golden flash in one of the window's reflection. He turned around, and was immediately pulled behind a second-hand clothes rack aligned in front of the store. Harry's expression changed radically, his face lightening up like a Christmas tree.

"Draco!" he shouted without further eloquence.

"So you frequent down market chains again! You're falling back into your base instincts, aren't you?" Draco mocked, lifting the sleeve of a bright shirt exposed with exaggerated disgust. "I must have left you alone for too long."

Harry felt like his smile would never go away. "Oh yes, too long," he answered, seizing Draco by the lapel of his opened jacket. He pulled him against him and captured his lips. He couldn't get enough of this wicked tongue. It was as if he had never been really kissed before Draco. The blond held him by the waist and Harry melted in his arms. He kept his hands hooked on the blonde's jacket, as though making sure he wouldn't go away and disappear this time. Draco smirked with a satisfied air and leaned over him.

"Come on Potter, follow me…"

Harry winced. He kept calling him by his surname. Since his return, that new distance had hurt him. Why did he keep doing it? Draco looped his arm around his waist and shouldered him playfully but Harry wasn't amused. He kept looking at his shoes in silence. Draco, his eyes fixed on the pathway, leaned sideway so his mouth reached the brunet's ear and murmured, "Harry, Harry, Harry."

The brunet found his smile back and prodded Draco in turn before nestling his head in the hollow of his shoulder.

"I always have an eye on you," Draco said with a wink. Harry seemed incredulous, so Draco kept on, "Believe me, my men are never far from you. I would have come sooner but I had business to take care of."

Harry seemed more convinced and Draco led him to his car. Inside, Harry greeted Goyle with warm eyes but the man didn't look pleased to see him.

"Goyle protects my interests," Draco explained softly. "You'll understand you're not exactly in his good books right now."

Harry looked in the rear-view mirror almost apologetically, then moved over very slowly to find himself tight against Draco. The blonde put his hand on his nape and kissed him greedily. The leather seats recollected nice memories and Harry could have done without Goyle's presence. He finally detached his lips from Draco but their eyes never left each other. The blonde coveted him with loving eyes but a moment later, his eyebrows furrowed. His finger landed on Harry's temple and the brunet immediately knew what it was about.

"How did you get that?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Harry rubbed the scab that had formed where MacNair had hit him. He did his best to keep a casual tone. "It's... a stupid accident at the club. A dancer a tad too energetic..." He chuckled, hoping Draco would buy the absurd explanation. Draco questioned with his eyes, letting the silence settle, when his mobile phone rang .

Saved by the bell.

Draco picked up. "Yes… Yes..."

Harry let out a silent breath of relief.

"Don't worry, we're on our way..." Draco hung up and turned to Harry. "I'm taking you to our place."

Harry smiled and teased, "You must really trust me then."

"Well," Draco shrugged, "we have to move tomorrow, so I'm not really taking any risk."

Harry's face fell. "I see," he muttered.

"No, don't take it that way..." Draco retorted in a drawl. He put a hand on his lover's thigh and defended, "You know how it is. There's been suspicious movement in the last month, so we change hideouts each week, but this is where we usually crash." Draco stressed his words, "I trust you, so stop doubting me. I believe in you and I ask you to do the same."

Touched by the sincerity of his words, Harry put his hand on his. It was nice to finally have someone to rely on.

.

When he entered the loft, Harry was taken aback by the laid-back atmosphere that reigned. It was unusual for Draco: the place was messy and the decoration coarse, with disparate furniture and cheap knickknacks. Draco stepped up into the living-room and threw a notebook to the hands of a Latino guy, dark hair, dark eyes, the brooding type. Someone Harry had never met. "Sandro" he had heard. The man didn't acknowledge him and left the area.

Draco turned to Harry, signalling him to follow inside the small dining room corner. There, Harry stopped in his tracks.

Surprise! At the table, the pretty Pansy, all dressed in yellow like a bright sun.

Harry stood there, astounded. His forehead wrinkled and his eyelids trembled. He ran a hand through his hair, his green eyes shining, barely keeping tears at bay. He didn't dare to come to her, let alone touch her. The shame and guilt were paralyzing. He blamed himself still for the incident that had almost cost her life. Fortunately the girl was braver and ran to him, landing into his arms in a big shockwave. Harry stayed stunned, the thin arms around him and the brunet head against his chin. He rested his cheek against the long soft mane. On his trembling lips, the words almost inaudible, "Pansy… Is it really you?"

"Good as new," she answered with a cocky smile.

He blinked comically. He couldn't believe so much blessing after his last few months in hell. "Thank you," he whispered.

To whom? To Draco for being here? To Pansy for forgiving him? To the sky and whatever there was above?

He embraced the girl awkwardly, dreading her reaction, but when he saw her closed eyes and her warm smile, his hesitations flew away and he hugged her tight, the fabric of her light dress crumpling under his fingers. Pansy started to laugh then. "Careful, you're going to smother me!" Harry smiled and let her go but the girl grabbed his hand, all bouncy.

"I knew it! I knew you were on our side!"

The words made Harry smirk. The frontiers between good and evil, the clans and alliances, the treasons and the low blows, it was all a big mess. Nothing was simple and nothing was set in stone. Harry was on Draco's side, period. And if Pansy stood by him, then all the better.

The girl turned to the table where a man that Harry recognized immediately as Sammy, was seated next to Draco.

"Right Draco? Didn't I tell you so?" she said cheerfully. Then she turned again to Harry with her doll eyes and confided, "He wouldn't stop complaining: 'I can't believe he did this, it's over, I'd have given him everything…'" she said, mimicking Draco with a dark comical voice. "Harry this, Harry that… "

"Pansy!" Draco interrupted indignantly.

"It's true, he was playing all tough, but you should have seen him moping alone when he thought no one was looking. I didn't know what to do anymore."

"Ok, I think we got it," Draco said to shut her up.

Harry shot a look at the blonde, touched by the revelation. Draco was manifestly embarrassed by Pansy's indiscretions, moving files on the table for no reason.

"So you're going to just stand there?" he asked as a way to change the subject.

Harry laughed good-heartedly at his uncharacteristic antics but an unexpected reaction hit him: a violent cramp that struck him to the core. The emotion had been too strong and the adrenaline had masked the withdrawal sensations. He gasped but hid his pain by faking a cough. Pansy softly squeezed his hand and gave a smile, silently asking him if something was wrong. Harry had to hold out. He would have to cut the visit short, he couldn't get high in the toilets and come back like everything was normal. He reassured Pansy with a smile and placed a kiss on the crown of her head.

Before they joined the others, he murmured, "You know, I regret what happened. I didn't mean-"

But Pansy with her unfaltering lightness stopped him on the spot.

"I know, Draco explained everything to me. It's not your fault, it's that evil Carter…"

"McCarthy," Harry corrected.

"We won't let him get away with it. We'll get you out of there." Pansy's warrior stance, her forehead wrinkled and her eyes furious amused Harry more than they convinced him, but he appreciated the intention.

"I know," he answered fondly.

They finally joined the two others. Draco was at the counter, pouring coffee into big mugs. At the table, Sammy, carefree as usual, eyed Harry with a mischievous smile.

"Hey, heartbreaker, what do you think of our digs ? It's not the life of Riley but it has its charm, yes ?"

Harry looked at the untidy room, the nude walls with the paint flaking away. In spite of the mess, the place looked comfortable and so much warmer than the apartment he shared with MacNair and his gang.

"I like it."

"Me too," said Sammy with a sniff. He leaned back on his seat, tipping up the chair onto the two back legs. "Feels like we're back five years ago, right Draco? Our very first debuts. Small time crooks with our pocket knifes. Fucking good times."

Draco put the coffee mugs on the table, two at a time, and laughed.

"We were real dickheads," he said, sitting next to him. "You remember the guy who stabbed Blaise in the arse. He ran around squeaking like a girl, his hands on his bum, like he was about to shit himself!" He laughed at the memory.

"Hilarious!" Sammy said with a big smile. "He was always putting his foot in it…"

The laugh ended in a nostalgic silence and Harry, already ill at ease on his chair, felt even more miserable. The conversation quickly drifted away.

"And the Elders, do they treat you well?" Pansy asked.

New silence at the table. Pansy's worries warmed Harry's heart but they brought him back to his imminent return to MacNair's arms.

"Yes, it's okay. Nothing much to say..."

He didn't want to dwell on that subject and moved the conversation on to yet another subject. He directly addressed Draco, "What about Snape? Did you hear something about him?"

Draco put his elbows on the table and answered with a flick of the tongue, "I reckoned it wiser to avoid him the first few months. I know several agents visited his shop and it was too big a risk to make contact with him at this point."

"Agents?" Harry asked with a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as if he had something else in mind. And he had indeed. If Draco had made the connection between the Division and Snape, then he knew.

Harry stared at Draco with the concentration of an investigator trying to read a suspect's mind. "You know about Snape…" he said though it wasn't as much an affirmation as it was a disguised question.

Draco chuckled. "Well Harry, you just confirmed it to me."

Harry's lips quirked, he was about to speak again but Draco beat him to it.

"I had my doubts," he said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. "Was he wanted, had he betrayed me too? I wasn't sure. Now I have my answer."

His eyes darkened for a moment, reproach and anger flickering in his grey irises, and Harry felt a pang of hurt inside him. But the accusing stare softened again like a veil had lifted from it. It was Harry's Draco once more.

"When I finally went to meet him, his shop had closed. He vanished from the city, not a trace of him. Is it them, is it him? I'm working on it."

He lowered his eyes on his coffee mug then took a sip. He made it look like he didn't care but Harry knew him better than that. Snape's betrayal then disappearance affected him and now looking at his absent eyes, Harry realized that Draco was as wounded a man as him.

The silence came back again, a lull in the conversation, then Sammy banged his fist against the table, making Pansy, whose eyes hadn't left Harry, start and yelp.

"Now, we should talk about Harry."

The so mentioned cocked a brow, surprised to be part of the man's preoccupations. It added to his uneasiness, especially with his knees uncontrollably trembling under the table. He put a hand on his thigh and managed to ease the nervous motion.

"What about me?" he asked, turning to Draco instinctively.

It looked like a council of war, the four seated across from each other, Harry and Pansy on one side of the table, and Draco and Sammy on the other.

Draco began. "Things have been chaotic here, we didn't have time to seriously plan our attack, but what I know is that MacNair is growing unstable, he's getting too ambitious and cocky for his own good. Wants to prove himself too fast. He's bound to make mistakes. And when the time comes, we'll be there…"

Harry nodded approvingly, but then Draco added something unexpected, "We will dethrone him." And Harry wouldn't let it pass.

"So that's what it's about?" he asked vehemently. "You want to take the crown back?"

Draco cringed, "No, it's not-"

"Then what? You want to re-enact the debacle? And how do you think McCarthy will react if you come back into the spotlight? You're looking for suicide?"

"Harry, it's not-"

"I know what you think you'll accomplish here, but I can't let you do that..."

Harry's nerves were frayed and his heart was hammering in his chest, the pain and burn in his body suffocating.

"Calm down!" Draco erupted, "You don't understand! I have no intention of taking my place back! What place are we even talking about?" He threw a hand in the air in an exasperated gesture. "I just want to weaken MacNair. Once he falls from his pedestal, McCarthy won't have any more targets. If the Elders are out of the game, McCarthy's got nothing either, and you'll be useless to him."

Harry kept quiet. Now that the picture was clearer, he found his previous rant pretty ridiculous. He nodded and ran a hand across his burning forehead.

"I'm sorry, I misunderstood." He smiled but it didn't ease the tension in Draco's face. Sammy took over. "Apparently, there's trouble in paradise with the Vanderbergh cousins. They've been working for the League but business went down, there's been threats. Do you know something about it?"

Harry did his best to keep his composure. "Uh… yes, MacNair told me about it. He tried to get rid of them but something happened, I don't know what. As recently as last week, he said it was time to do a little cleaning." His eyes lost themselves in the window behind Draco. "He was very…upset by the falling-out."

Sammy slammed his fist down on the table once more.

"Perfect! All we have to do is stir up the minds, push the small gangs against the League. Who do we have on the field? Ramsay must be…"

While Sammy listed all the possible contacts, Harry turned to Draco. However, the blonde's attention seemed elsewhere. His eyes were riveted on the edge of the table, right before Harry. The brunet lowered his eyes to discover what had caught his interest: it was his jointly held hands trembling against the table. He hadn't even felt it. Harry automatically jerked his hands away and hid them under the table. He lifted his eyes, Draco's stare now on him, penetrating and merciless. His face was still as a statue. Not a blink. Harry's lips quivered, the tension palpable. He averted his eyes quickly for he couldn't bear the blonde's mute accusation.

No one else had noticed.

"…a mutiny would be the perfect trigger. What do you think?" Sammy's words were turned to Draco, and Harry who lived now a great moment of solitude, didn't risk a glance.

The blonde answered in an emotionless voice, "Seems like a good plan but I'd rather we discuss it later if you don't mind." He slowly pushed his chair away to get up and approached the mortified brunet. "Harry, will you kindly follow me? We need to talk."

Harry wet his dried lips with trepidation. He knew exactly what it was about and he was not sure he could handle the confrontation.

"Now," Draco commanded in a cutting voice.

Even Pansy froze on the spot. Harry looked sideways at the exit door but thought better of it. With a sigh, he rose and followed Draco like a convict on death row. Heart beating wildly and eyes lowered, he found himself in a modest room, a simple queen bed and pine furniture. Harry left the door open behind him and stopped nearby, anxious to be done with it. However, Draco saw it differently: he closed the door and placed himself right in front of Harry.

The brunet was quickly preparing his formatted speech but Draco shot first.

"How many a day are you on now?"

Straight to the point.

Harry folded his arms against his torso in a defensive way and retorted with an outraged air, "Listen, I'm fine. I reduced a lot-"

"Pull up your sleeves."

Draco was standing tall like a judge, straight and determined.

Harry gulped. "What?"

"I asked you to pull up your sleeves."

Draco's voice was poised, his eyes assertive, seemingly noting each tremor of the brunet. Harry felt naked in front of him and the impression he was losing face wore him thin. He had no intention of showing his lover the evidence of his recent binge. The shame was too great.

His eyes turned nasty. "I have nothing to prove to you, if you don't want to believe me, fine," he said in a single stroke.

He rushed to the door but Draco didn't give him the time to cross the threshold: he shoved him roughly against the wall and grabbed his arm. Out of strength, Harry was unable to stop him. Draco did a fast job of pulling up his sleeve. Then the unavoidable silence. Harry scrunched his eyes shut and let out a desperate wail.

The tracks were distinct and recent, the veins bruised by the incessant shots. It wasn't pretty. There was a yellowish haematoma on his wrist, testimony to MacNair's brutality, but it was barely visible under his watch, and this was Harry's only consolation.

"What about that!" Draco yelled.

The blonde roughly dropped his arm and stepped back, hands on his head and elbows lifted in overwhelmed disbelief. He shot a glance at Harry, disappointment marring his face.

Harry broke down.

"What do you want from me? You think it's easy with MacNair who won't give me a break, and I have to take it, do my job and shut up." His voice panicked and he started to make wild gestures. "You, are you out there, every single day? Do you know how it goes and how badly I was hoping to hear from you, and I…I can't do it…"

Harry was a shivering mess, he had reached his limits. He couldn't breathe and needed out. He slammed the door open and dashed like a drunkard to the exit door. He mumbled a "sorry" when he passed by a dumbstruck Pansy and Sammy and ran out the door. He stumbled down the stairs, the coldness of the corridor barely soothing him.

When he heard the door slam on the upper floor, he knew it was Draco who was coming to get him. He hurried his strides, unwilling to resume their argument. There was no call from Draco but the noise of his steps growing faster and closer were enough to alarm him. Harry reached the ground floor first and opened the door separating the lobby from the stairs, but Draco jumped down, filling the little distance left between them, to tackle Harry against the glass door.

"Let go of me!" Harry cried out. He was in a pitiful state, and it looked like he wouldn't be able to stand without Draco's help.

"Will you stop fighting me?" Draco bit out with wide eyes, his fingers closed tight on Harry's arms. But the brunet shook his head and kept yelling at him to let go.

Draco didn't relent. "Stop it! I'm with you! You're not alone!"

The magic words again, but Harry felt like he was losing his mind. He hurt and all he wanted was a fucking fix. Draco's voice was the only thing that kept him conscious at this point.

"I'm not here to bring you down! You hear me? Hey?

Harry kept avoiding his stare, so Draco planted his hand on the brunet's cheek and shook him slightly hoping for the words to reach him, "I'm with you."

He bent his head to rest his forehead against Harry's, the contact appeasing the brunet's nerves. Their eyes were closed, and their breaths slowed down peacefully. Their only horizon was each other. "My wild lion," Draco whispered, his hand still on Harry's cheek. Then Harry hooked his arms around the blonde's neck, hanging to him with a shaky breath. It was an intimate moment and no more words were necessary.

_Toodoodoodoo Toodoodoodoo Toodoodoodoo _

The phone ringing broke the brief communion and Harry knew without having to look at the screen who was calling him to return to the fold. He lowered his arms and backed up against the wall, staring at Draco. He took the phone out of his pocket and pressed a key.

"Yes… Yes, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Draco lowered his head while Harry straightened up, an arm against the wall. They were far from each other again, Harry's mind already turned to the League. He didn't speak up, it was Draco who reacted.

"You kick the habit now, and I'll come and see you in the next few days."

"He won't let you," Harry said in a broken voice.

Draco frowned. "Why not, he always let-"

"It's okay, I can make it," Harry interrupted.

Draco scrutinized him for a moment without a word. His silences were always heavy, as though he could guess what Harry left unsaid.

Draco plunged his hand in his trouser pocket and pulled out his golden chain with the key. Harry looked at the pendant he had hidden preciously. Draco gently took Harry's hand and deposited the necklace onto his palm in a little whorl.

"If you have a moment of weakness, hold it and I'll be with you," he said, closing the brunet's hand with his.

It was one of the sappiest things Draco had told him but he found it so touching in that moment. Why did he have to leave now?

Harry tightened his fist against the jewel and slid it in his back pocket. He hugged Draco close, dropped a kiss on his lips, just a soft pressure, and then left without looking back.

A long road was ahead of him.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

"I think I went too far. I need to stop."

Harry had announced it as soon as he had stepped in the living-room.

MacNair knew all too well what he was referring to. He eyed Harry, looking at him up and down, and suddenly grabbed him by the neck. Harry started, still frightened by every of his rough gestures, but the other looked at him without animosity.

"Do you want me to find you methadone?" he offered.

"No, no. I don't need anymore shit inside me. I want to be completely clean, I just… want to stop all this."

MacNair seemed to disapprove. "It will be violent, you know it."

"I know," Harry mumbled.

He didn't want to imagine how the next few days would go. He had gone through this once already but he had been supported by the Weasleys all along, surrounded by love and compassion, and his future had seemed so brighter then. He didn't even know what awaited him at the end of the tunnel.

MacNair put a hand on his shoulder and tenderly murmured, "If you need anything, I'm here."

Harry nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. He let out a small "Thank you" before disappearing inside his room.

As soon as he entered, he took a big dusty bag from the cupboard and dashed to his reserves. He put everything inside: powder, blood beans, ecstasy, his works, everything. MacNair's room was next. Same operation. Then he ran to the kitchen and past Greyback to take out the drugs he had hidden in some drawers. Impervious to Greyback's scornful comments, he threw everything away. A now full bag in hand, he walked to the pantry where the gang kept their personal stash. He took the key from its hanger, opened and put his bag at the very bottom of the storage cupboard, acting quickly so he wouldn't be tempted to change his mind in the process. He was in automatic mode but he knew that in a few hours, he wouldn't feel so confident.

Facing MacNair, he held out the pantry key with a resolute air. "Keep it away from me. I mustn't see it. No matter how hard I beg you, don't let me go near it."

MacNair seemed to take his decision as seriously as him and his implication surprised him. MacNair looked him straight in the eye, and declared with a solemn tone, "I promise Harry."

When the night fell, Harry was already on the verge of breaking, writhing in his bed, trembling and covered with sweat, his shirt soaked and his eyes dazed. The pain felt worse than all he had suffered before, worming its way deep inside his body, like a million of ants crawling under his skin. He could barely breath, it was torture.

When the man had barged inside his room, alerted by his howls, Harry had sent him away more than crudely, and since that moment, the pain had only escalated. MacNair had confiscated the key to his room to make sure he wouldn't do anything stupid. The brunet had laughed at his face. He wasn't suicidal! His descent into drugs had been a means to forget, but now he wanted a chance to live. After this ordeal, he would have fully earned it.

His face contorted with agony and he slipped his hand under the mattress where he had concealed Draco's blessed chain, but the image of his lover didn't alleviate the pain that was eating at him. How he regretted his weakness. Drugs. How could something so pleasurable cause so much suffering? But then again, all good things had their drawbacks. There was always a price to pay. He twisted on the bed, no position did him good, no respite. Worse than a crucio, the pain was endless, tormenting him to no end. It was as if his own body was attacking him. How do you fight against yourself?

It was ludicrous, he shouldn't have to endure this.

He knew just the way to make the pain disappear. A line, only one. To make it better. His fists clenched and unclenched against the untidy bedcovers. He gritted his teeth, shaking his head wildly. The liberation was so tempting.

_There's all you need at the end of the corridor._

"Noooo!" he moaned, sobbing.

His stomach turned, his tongue was pasty and his head felt like bursting. Minutes were hours, weeks.

"When does it fucking stop?" he barked.

He couldn't stand it anymore, these filthy sheets, this foul smell in the air. He dragged himself out of the bed in a hallucinating state, his surroundings unclear and foggy. Sweat pearled down his lashes. He walked toward the bathroom, hanging onto the furniture, his legs like cotton carrying him with difficulty. The cramps didn't help, his muscles were as hard as rocks. He looked like a wounded man, his hand on his stomach. Then his head found the bowl and he retched all he had. When he was done, he collapsed next to the toilet. How he wished he could get rid of his body, this deadweight.

He screamed with desperation and didn't hear the door open. It was only when MacNair's hand pressed against his shoulder like a sting that he realized his intrusion. He grabbed the man's wrist, tears falling down his cheeks, then muttered, pleading him with mad eyes, "I can't, I can't… I need some… I won't hold out!"

MacNair kneeled next to him, his voice soft, "Harry…"

The brunet knew the man would try to reason him but the time was not for sermons, he needed a shot. His voice turned raging and ferocious, "Do you want me to fucking die? I need it! Give it to me! Just a little…" He wet his lips. "A taste, nothing more. Just a taste, please…"

His eyes were begging and MacNair seemed conflicted. Harry could tell he was on the brink of giving in.

Slyly, he whimpered. "Please, I need it. I'll do whatever you want. Tell me, I'll do anything. I'll show you how grateful I can be… Please." He lifted his green eyes to him, and then, the coup de grace.

"You know I love you."

He began to kiss MacNair's face and caress his thigh, his body shivering with pain. It was a sad sight. Harry wasn't even conscious of his degradation. At that moment, he was ready for anything. But MacNair's reaction wasn't the one he hoped: he looked horrified. This deceitful Harry only strengthened his resistance. MacNair shook his shoulders and admonished him with force, "You're stronger than this! Come on, pull yourself together! You can fight it!"

He took the brunet by the arm and pulled him toward the bed but Harry struggled like a wild animal.

"Bastard! You're going to let me die! You don't give a fuck about me!"

MacNair kept stoical and pushed him on the bed, but Harry wouldn't hold still. The other had to immobilize his hands while Harry was thrashing like a devil to free himself. MacNair used all his weight to pin him to the mattress. Completely out of it, Harry spat all his bile, "I hate you, I fucking hate you! Let me gooo! Aaaaah! Get off me you bloody rapist!"

The impact was searing. MacNair froze with a small tilt of the head, like a boxer after a knock out, right before falling on the ring. He eyed Harry with haunted eyes, then tightened his hands on the younger man's wrists.

"I hate you, you hear me!" Harry cried out, "You're a pig, a fucking bastard! I hate you!"

"Hate me all you want, I won't let go," MacNair retorted in a calm voice.

Harry kept screaming and insulting MacNair but the man never weakened his grip. Then Harry finally collapsed, exhausted, in an agitated sleep. MacNair stayed by his side in silence, his hunched silhouette on the edge of the bed.

* * *

**The fuzzz :** Aaah, no more compliments, you'll make me blush! I'm glad you don't find Harry too pathetic. I put him through hell and more, and he's quite a mess. But he's not given up, not yet. There's still fight in him, deep down.

**Anonymous 1 :** The cohabitation between former wizards and muggles will be more developed later on. I didn't want to treat this aspect too soon. For now, Harry is practically living in a bubble, protected as he is by the gang. They have power and money and it opens them every door, no matter who they are. But it will take a larger place in the third part of the story. I was definitely inspired by the persecutions of the Jews during World War2: the arm band the ex-wizards had to bear is a reminder of the yellow star the Jews were forced to wear back in those dark days for example. The difference is something that people don't accept, even now. The fear of the unknown, the fear of losing their identity. 'You're not like us, so you can't be part of our society.' It's sad but true.

Yes, Harry is quite in a predicament. I love to torture him! Draco and Harry's love story is not an easy one and they will have to struggle to accept who they are and find a semblance of peace.

**MBuster:** Thank you so much. Suspense and surprises is the motor of the story. I don't want it to get boring, especially since it is a long fic and it can easily drag. So really, you made me a great compliment!

Ah, the Forrest Gump effect. That was a hard scene to write but metro chases are just a thrill and I had to write one.

I'm very attached to MacNair, it's a very ambiguous character. Obviously, after this chapter you might change your mind. He's not a good guy after all, but he's not a heartless brute either. Harry brings out a softer side of him and it makes him more human and complex (I hope).

**Anonymous 2:** Why thank you, it means a lot to me! And I'm glad you don't find the characters too OOC. I know they are to a certain extent. It is an AU and the environment in which they evolved inevitably changed their personality, but in my mind, it's still plausible and there's a reason for everything.

**Anonymous 3:** I don't understand it either! Lol Actually, there's so many reasons why my story can put off readers: the warnings, the dark atmosphere, the flashbacks in the beginning… I posted my story on my livejournal too so I'm happy with the comments I receive here and there. It's a nice boost and I really need it sometimes! So thank you for reviewing.

I'm sorry, I can't disclose any information about the ending, otherwise I'd have to kill you…


	25. Stolen Moments

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing MsLefay. Thank you for your incredible rapidity and you thorough corrections!

A/N: There was no lemon in the original chapter, but in a spur of the moment thing, I decided to add one. It's not completely gratuitous considering the setting, but let's face it, I just wanted to indulge myself. Anyway, I hope you'll appreciate it!

* * *

**CHAPTER 24: STOLEN MOMENTS**

**April 17, 2005**

Four days had gone by and Harry could still not swallow anything. He hung around the apartment with a ghostly face like a wandering soul. Never had he looked so hollow and tired. After the physical pain came melancholia and lassitude. All life had left him, and only the hope of Draco's return kept him from wasting away. MacNair was given more than a hard time, Harry letting out all his rancour. Getting off drugs had been cathartic in that way: he didn't hold himself back anymore. Hallucinatory memories of his violent cold turkey came back to him like a nightmare but what had shocked him the most was the indefectible presence of the man by his side. His attitude was laudable, however it would never erase what had happened between them.

Then that afternoon, MacNair came to get him out of bed. Exhausted and still on edge, Harry protested but his companion's insistence got the better of him. MacNair guided him out by the hand like a child, but Harry wouldn't let himself be pushed around and wrenched his hand away, dragging his feet behind him. MacNair didn't show any irritation and continued his descent.

When at the middle of the stairs, Harry froze, astounded by the sight in front of the door: Draco was there, his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face, seemingly content and at ease. Harry knew better though. The slight crease of his brows proved how worried he really was. Harry couldn't detach his eyes from him and MacNair's words sounded like babbling in the distance. He was going to turn Draco away, Harry was sure of it.

MacNair turned to Harry. "… with us."

He quieted then and Harry now realized he had not listened to a word. He shook his head, redirecting his attention toward him. "What?" he eloquently asked!

"Draco will stay a few days with us," MacNair repeated, "so we can catch up and share our tips."

Harry was certain he had misheard and frowned incredulously. He had probably blanked out…

MacNair sighed. "I have to leave now," he added in a carefree tone. "Rabastan and Rodolphus are waiting for me." To Draco, "Greyback is in the living-room, he'll bring you up on our latest."

MacNair climbed the first steps to reach Harry and after kissing his cheek murmured, "I want you to understand that I trust you." MacNair locked his dark eyes with his. "Don't disappoint me."

Harry looked gob smacked. MacNair wasn't the kind of man who turnabout like that. When he set rules for Harry, he never relented on his decisions. And now he had invited Draco into their home, leaving Harry almost alone with him, when only a week ago, he had sworn to end all relationship between them. Harry stayed a few seconds like that, just staring at MacNair, confused. But the man's eyes were limpid: it wasn't a trap.

MacNair picked up his keys, called Pete who joined him in a hurry and they were out the door. The sound of the lock sealed their departure.

Harry was standing on the stair, unmoving, Draco on the threshold, moments in freeze frame. Harry worried his lips, unable to make a single movement, and for once, Draco looked as nervous as him, the reunion similar to one of two lovers in exile. Simultaneously they both broke into motion, Harry running down the stairs and Draco reaching him in three strides: they met on the last step, hugging tight, careful not to make any noise. Harry closed his eyes and basked in the exquisite sensation: the firm arms around him, the unmistakable scent, the soft hair on his cheek. It was the first time in the last four days that he was really breathing. Draco caressed the brunet's ear with his nose.

"You alright?" he whispered.

Harry answered with a smile. Draco took his head between his hands and smoothed his hair down.

"You're awfully pale."

"I had a shitty week," Harry said with a grin.

"I can tell." He sighed. "I wish I could have helped."

"You did."

Draco smiled sadly and turned his head sharply. Harry frowned and then his hand was grabbed and he was dragged around the stairs and further onto the corner. Hidden there, Draco took his time to kiss and fondle him gently. He took a breath and then turned his head around toward the apartment's front door.

"What's got into him? Calling me to spend the day with you..."

"He called you?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"He must have ulterior motives. Why else would he allow this?"

"I have no idea and I don't give a damn," the brunet answered, pulling him closer by the waist. "All that matters is that you're here with me."

Harry's voice was filled with adoration. He finally had his Draco back.

A loud noise ended their interlude and they broke apart. Draco headed to the living-room, leaving Harry a few steps behind.

"Hello," Harry heard him say.

Then Greyback's voice, "Hey, here again? Tell me, we can't get rid of you!"

Harry revealed himself next.

"Hey, scarecrow!" Greyback greeted him. A new nickname to go with Harry's haggard appearance. "You've got a visitor. You must be delighted."

Harry glared at him. It was going to be a long day.

Draco and Harry had spent the early afternoon listening to Greyback's delusions, delighted to find an audience. The man ego had swollen since he had taken the title of second in command. The two lovers paid him little attention, burning to be alone at last. Harry had been surprised to say the least when Greyback and a new guy called Mitchell had left them to join MacNair out at his meeting. It was beyond hope.

They were alone.

Draco and he fell into each other's arms again. Kissing Draco on the couch and not MacNair. To contemplate his lover there, seated by the windowsill in a position he himself had taken so many times, seeing him in what'd become his home was a dream come true. Precious moments of happiness.

Later entwined on the little wooden bench upon the balcony, protected from the cold under a large plaid canopy, they played the happy couple, kissing and forgetting the rest of the world. There were no overlooking houses, just a park skirted with tall trees and buildings. This way, they were not bothered by indiscreet eyes.

They wanted each other but they didn't go further. Harry's body had been too battered by the detox and wouldn't cooperate. It didn't matter. Harry felt good. Safe.

Greyback's return had tolled the bell for their blissful afternoon, but the two lovers had shown nothing of it, keeping their distance though stealing glances at each other whenever they could. The situation was exhilarating. They couldn't touch or talk openly and everything was played in discreet hand brushes and small gestures when no one was looking. It would have become amusing if MacNair hadn't appeared an hour later, the Lestranges in his tow. The game was not the same. No use tempting the devil.

The man threw a heavy envelope on the table and grumbled, "What a shitty day! The Donellys and the Barney gang are trying to pick a quarrel with me. Mark told me they were trafficking on our territory. I fucking told them they had to run it by me!" he roared, roughly pouring himself a whisky. "We had a deal, 40/60 and everyone's happy. All these small time pricks are starting to take liberties. I don't know what's going on, but I can feel the tide is turning…" He downed his whisky in one shot and put it down noisily on the table. "I'll show them who they're fucking with."

Harry looked at Draco from the corner of his eye and the blonde's air hinted he was not innocent in that coming storm.

Harry had stood still for his entire monologue and MacNair came to greet him properly, taking him by the waist and kissing him soundly. He asked quickly, "Did your day turn out better than mine?"

_Hell yes!_

"It was quiet… " he leisurely answered.

MacNair looked at him from beneath his brows, eyes scrunched.

"You seem in better shape than this morning."

His tone was more casual than anything else, but his remark wasn't innocent.

"I chilled on the balcony. The air did me good I think."

"Hm…" MacNair made no comment.

Harry looked at the tall man and got the clear impression that he knew everything about his affair with Draco. Harry glanced quickly at the blonde.

Right to the point, MacNair hailed him, "Draco, why don't you talk to me about your business? Have you got plans for the future? You glossed over the subject…" He sat heavily on the couch, opening his suit in a single motion.

Draco slightly tilted his head to the side, apparently taken aback by the question.

"Don't tell me you lost all ambition, I wouldn't believe you," MacNair continued.

One look from the man and Harry took his place next to him.

Draco walked to sit in front of the couple with a haughty expression. His answer was cold. "What are you getting at? You know very well I can't share my plans with you, I already told you so. So speak up. You want something then be frank about it. What is it?"

It was daring on his part to resist MacNair and put himself on a level with him since their relationship was cordial at the best. They had never defined the terms of their cooperation, still testing the waters.

Even Greyback who had sat at the other end of the couch had ceased his discussion with Rabastan.

MacNair peered at Draco with a lopsided grin. A silent duel was playing out between the two men. MacNair chuckled then and turned his glass in his hands with a bored expression.

"You've got balls, but I can assure you they are no competition to mine!"

Greyback burst into laughter, followed by Rabastan. MacNair didn't seem amused though. His arm tight around Harry's hip, he stayed completely stoical. Draco, seated straight on his chair, smiled but the sentiment wasn't there. It was an expression that said "He who laughs last, laughs longest".

"Don't forget you're in my house." MacNair lashed out in a sharp tone. "My rules, my conditions."

It had come from nowhere and Draco cocked up an eyebrow. "What has it got to do with anything? I…" He shook his head in frustration and sighed. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to know?"

Harry was as mystified as Draco. Why did MacNair always feel obligated to make a demonstration of strength? He had invited Draco by all appearances to prove his good will to Harry and here he was, trying to create a conflict.

A smile grew on MacNair's lips and then his hand slid to the inside of Harry's thigh, making the brunet redden on the spot. Harry reacted instinctively: he grasped his hand and pushed it away. Almost immediately, he bit the inside of his cheek, conscious of the foolishness of his gesture in the present situation. He felt MacNair stiffen by his side, and as a way of dodging the unavoidable argument, announced, "I don't feel too good, I think I need some air."

He got up to leave but a hand prevented him doing so. He looked down at MacNair, ready to protest, but the implacable stare and the set jaw dissuaded him from insisting.

"Wait a minute, I'm not through."

Harry stiffly sat back down. Draco threw him a tense look. What was going on?

Harry rubbed his sweaty hands on his trousers and picked up his empty glass. He poured water from the jug in a long stream, the sound of the liquid filling the glass in the silence making the situation more uncomfortable than it already was.

MacNair spoke up again. "There's something that's been bugging me" He turned to Draco. "You seemed quite hooked on Harry. I don't believe in your casual fuck story. I think it was more than that."

Harry almost spat his water out but managed to swallow in silence.

"So, tell me, what happened? I thought you'd try to make a grand coup. You always enjoyed challenges. It doesn't become you to throw in the towel."

Draco didn't let himself be unnerved. A moment of silence passed. Perhaps he was searching for an adequate answer, but his face didn't betray him. He then straightened up in his chair and said in a tone of confession, "If you want to know, you're right. It was not a fling."

Harry gulped, hanging to the blonde's words.

"Why did I keep my distance? It's simple, I don't trust him one bit. He seduced me, then you. What's the point?"

Then he turned malicious eyes to Harry.

"You don't know what you want. You despise what we do and what we are. I can tell by the way you look at me…" he swept his eyes around the other fellows near by, "at them."

Harry couldn't tell if Draco was bluffing anymore and his words were disturbing. His brows creased further, unsettled by the sincere tone of the blonde's declarations.

"You don't let anyone in. You think you do but you don't…"

"It's not true!" Harry answered in a spontaneous reaction. He was about to object further but realized they had an audience. He swept his eyes aside and closed his mouth.

"I always knew it wouldn't last."

Draco was a good actor and his implacable eyes upset Harry more than they should. He didn't have to force his reaction. He was idly hurt.

"You're wrong," Harry whispered. "How can you say such a thing?"

Draco held his stare and retorted, flippant, "Simply because I believe it." A sip of alcohol, "You should know what to expect," he added to MacNair.

The latter put his hand on Harry's knee to pacify him, which evidently got the opposite effect.

"Thank you for your concern," he answered Draco, "but I consider myself more than able to handle my boy. Harry belongs here, and you'd be well-advised to remember it before you insult him."

Draco shrugged. "I wasn't aware I had insulted him. I merely gave you my reasons. You asked for it, didn't you?"

Silent looks were exchanged, then the conversation turned to safer grounds. As Rodolphus dragged Draco into a debate about greyhound betting, MacNair invited Harry out of the room and into the library. He closed the door and turned to the smaller man, pinning him with his eyes. Harry felt smothered by the power of his stare, fearing a new fit of rage.

MacNair closed in on him in two strides. "I don't give a damn what he says. He can try to drive me away from you all he wants…" He pulled Harry into his arms and rumbled, "You're mine."

He kissed Harry harshly on the lips, drawing blood, and Harry gasped. Grabbing his hips, MacNair literally purred. "I want you here and now," he whispered out of breath.

Harry was used to his bluntness, only this time, he would not yield.

"I don't," he bit out, pulling away from him.

MacNair's body went still. "What did you say?" he asked with a dangerous tone.

"I don't want you," Harry answered in a firm voice. "Certainly not with Draco in the next room. You want to rub his nose in it, don't you, but I'm not a toy to parade with! I feel sick and tired of this."

MacNair grabbed him by the collar in a sudden impulsion. He stepped closer, his lips tightly pursed. "I give you all you want, I try to please you the best I can. The least you can do is to show me your appreciation."

Harry pushed on his arms and managed to free himself. He stepped back with a murderous stare. "Are you kidding me? I just got off drugs, I feel like shit and you expect me to be all pliant and let you fuck me into the floor!" He yelled vehemently. "Well sorry, that's not going to happen!"

MacNair's eyes widened with anger. "Mind your tone or I swear…"

"What, you'll beat me into submission?"

Harry's provocation unsettled MacNair. His eyes wavered and he let his stance loosen slightly.

"Go ahead, hit me!" Harry cried out, leaning toward him. "It's not like it's the first time, right!"

MacNair lost all composure and turned his eyes away in what could only be described as shame. Invigorated and proud, Harry opened the door and banged it on his way out. The moment he stepped in the living-room, Draco's eyes fell on him like a hawk ready to attack, his fists tight against his sides and his stance tense on the couch, but Harry barely noticed him angered as he was. He headed to his room, MacNair left bereft and alone behind him.

Harry wouldn't let him touch him anymore.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 18, 2005**

Harry had woken up early to get a head start on the men of the house. Draco had spent the night there and he wanted the first face he saw to be Draco's. He didn't know where he had settled, so he trotted in light pants and tee-shirt toward the kitchen. The room was empty, separated from the living-room by two glass doors. He rubbed his tired eyes and prepared the coffee. He had yet to find his appetite back, but he cut himself a few slices of fruit keep his strength. He tried to force them in his mouth, however he could barely swallow a strawberry and a piece of apple. He jumped up on the countertop, his legs dangling in the air. His eyes were fixed on the floor, tracing the lines of the tiles until a pair of shoes entered his field of vision. He jerked his head up and swallowed with difficulty, the apple lodged in his throat.

Draco was already groomed, dressed in fitted jeans and a midnight-blue pullover which made the blond of his hair stand out. Always a sight for sore eyes. Draco closed the door behind him and moved toward the sink further away from Harry. The brunet fiddled with his bowl of fruit to occupy himself and lent a bit to the left to scan the room behind the glass door. He strained his ears. Neither a noise nor a movement. They were alone.

Draco grabbed a cup and poured himself some coffee. He drank a sip and finally looked at Harry. The first time since his entry. The brunet began swinging his legs and banging them against the bottom drawers with an innocent air, his hands at each side resting on the marble. Draco came closer and nonchalantly positioned himself in front of Harry.

From their position, no one could see them through the glass doors. Hidden so, they grew more adventurous: Draco placed himself between Harry's opened legs. Thanks to the counter, Harry was slightly higher than him. Draco trapped him, his hands just beside the brunet's and looked at him with a cocky expression. He was so sure of his seduction it drove Harry wild, his eyes misting with desire. The need to pull him against him and dishevel him right there. Draco breathed slowly through his nose, as if holding himself, their faces close, just eyeing each other, their bodies intricately twined against the counter. Harry's legs were still batting the air. He knew the torture would end soon. The distance between their lips grew smaller with each breath. Harry looked at his lover's lips, so sensual, so tempting, then Draco's eyes went south too. Another breath and Draco was brushing Harry's mouth, the movement of Harry's legs slowing steadier. Then the blonde's wicked tongue slipped out to lick the brunet's lips. A shiver of pleasure. Harry's right hand moved on the worktop in a nervous gesture. A keen. His legs stilled completely, then he half-opened his lips, his chest rising stronger and stronger with the beatings of his heart. Their bodies didn't touch. Only their lips.

Draco backed up and observed with pride the effect of his caresses: Harry had his eyes closed and was leaning forward with pursed lips. A blatant call for a second round. Draco obliged, and more forward this time, grabbed Harry's arse on the counter to pull him closer to the edge. The brunet, legs now completely bent, feet flat on the bottom drawers, heaved a giggle soon stolen by Draco's mouth. Their lips crushed together, their heads tilted left and right, going as deeper as they could. The coffee and the fruit had taken care of their morning breath, and they were just tasting each other like starving men. Their torsos were pressed tight against each other's, Harry's legs framing Draco's body, his hands gripping the edge so as not to fall.

Harry decided to tease his lover then and ended the kiss much to the blonde's chagrin. He sprawled back on the counter, spreading his arms wider behind him to support himself, his left hand touching the sink and his right one pushing the bowl against the wall. He was daring Draco to come closer, and Draco was no man to refuse a challenge. He leaned over Harry but the marble top was too high and Harry too far away, so he grabbed the brunet's hips to slide him toward him. Harry did his best to hold himself to the counter but his hands were slipping against the stainless steel and he had no real desire to resist. Draco smiled his victory and encased Harry's face with both his hands, offering him a new kiss, sucking at his lips and slipping his tongue inside in an indecent mouth to mouth. Harry shivered and when the blonde disentangled from him, he was a panting mess.

Draco grinned, much more composed. "Good morning," he just said.

And Harry couldn't dream of a better wake up.

"'Morning", he echoed.

They both took a moment to recover from the sweet high then Draco's eyes sobered up.

"You scared me last night, you know," he said worriedly.

Harry looked down. "You too," he answered in a whisper.

Draco's words last night had frightened him more than he could say. But he didn't want to dwell on that.

Draco stared at him. "I hate that."

Their hands naturally found each other, their fingers entwined. Draco padded forward again and their faces slowly came in contact, nose buried in the other's cheek. A peaceful moment. They peered into each other's eyes, the passion burning deep down, when the door suddenly opened, starting Harry and Draco who had the swift reflex to immediately draw aside. When MacNair caught sight of them, they were at a reasonable distance, Draco calm as usual, Harry more tense on the counter, his eyes a bit wider than normal. But it seemed MacNair didn't notice: he approached Harry carefully and smoothed his hair down. He was so gentle in contrast to the previous night but it didn't move Harry the least.

_Guilty much?_

MacNair came to take the same position Draco had taken previously and kissed his lips without lingering fortunately. Harry was afraid Draco's taste would betray him. Rightfully so? With a growing dread, he saw MacNair lick his lips with an intrigued air. He looked Harry straight in the eye. Harry held his breath.

"Fruity."

Harry's lips quivered. He had forgotten about the strawberry and the apple perfuming his mouth. He smiled, relieved, and took another strawberry. MacNair seized his wrist before he could put it in his mouth though. Harry looked at him with a blank expression but inside he was terrified. Every gesture, every expression of the man seemed like a warning signal. He was unpredictable. The man opened his mouth and slowly caught the fruit between his lips, his lewd stare too close to Harry, then he bit into it and kissed the mute brunet, letting him taste the fruit on their mingled tongues.

Harry opened his eyes to see Draco turn away. He was on a slippery slope. After their fight the night before, he knew MacNair wasn't fooled and that Draco and he had to be careful and feed the lie. But he felt no less uncomfortable, seeing Draco react like that. Harry was not the type to take pleasure making his boyfriend jealous.

"You woke up early," MacNair noticed.

"I couldn't sleep…" Harry answered with a shrug.

"I missed you last night," the other whispered.

Harry glanced again at Draco behind MacNair's shoulder. The blonde took a muffin from a small basket on the counter and put it on his plate, then placed it on the kitchen table without a word.

MacNair ran his thumb against the back of Harry's hand. "You should have called for Peter to fetch breakfast for you," MacNair pointed out to the brunet, deliberately ignoring the third man in the room.

"I wanted to keep it simple."

"Ok," MacNair smiled. "Home-made breakfast it is then."

The man walked to the fridge and took out the box of eggs to prepare them on the stove. He lit the gas burner while Harry jumped off the counter with his bowl of fruits to settle at the table in front of Draco, both throwing conniving looks at each other. Draco bit hard on his bread in an animalistic funny way, his antics instantly brightening the atmosphere. Harry held a laugh inside. He kept MacNair on a close watch, but the man seemed concentrated on the eggs and the sausages sizzling on the heat.

Harry grinned.

He slowly wriggled on his chair and straightened his leg out so his naked foot reached Draco's ankle. He slipped it underneath the blonde's trousers and started caressing the warm skin with his cold toes. The blonde's head shot up and the corner of his lips quirked upwards. Harry slowly lifted his foot, running it along his lover's leg in a sensual way. The guilty pleasure of enticing each other under MacNair's very nose and beard, was painted across their faces. But it was short lived. The man soon joined them at the table, two steaming plates for Harry and himself in hand. He sat by the brunet's side, the latter retracting his foot immediately. The man kissed his neck and snaked and arm around his shoulder, the message clear. Draco turned his eyes toward the window and finished his coffee while Harry pretended to be content. No one uttered a word, MacNair simply ate in silence and Harry tried to find a subject of conversation to no avail. He folded his leg on the top of his seat, huddling up a bit.

Surprisingly, it was Draco who breached the silence.

"I have to leave this afternoon. I have appointments that cannot be postponed."

Harry had expected MacNair to put and end to his stay, not the other way around. His heart tightened in his chest. Draco's presence had been a breath of fresh air for him and this new separation would be hard to bear. They had only enjoyed themselves for a few hours…

MacNair could barely hide his joy. "Oh, what a pity… But I understand, business before all."

Harry's face was frozen, his eyes searching Draco's. When MacNair's mobile rang, the blonde finally looked him in the eye. So many things passed between them: the sadness, the yearning already. MacNair noticed nothing, and it was a good thing, because Harry couldn't hold his emotions at bay. He wanted to keep Draco with him, tell him to give him more time, but he had no right to do so. Draco had to put his plan in motion, for his own good.

A few hours later, when they made their goodbyes in MacNair's presence, Harry tried to imprint all the sensations: Draco's hand on his back, his scent when they briefly hugged, his deep voice, and it was over. He was gone.

That night, Harry stayed awake a long time in the dark, rolling the golden key in his hand.

Soon.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 25, 2005**

The rustling of sheets. A soft light. Panting. Two bodies moving like one. A twisted mouth. Moans growing faster. A defined back contracting. Hands gripping strong shoulders. A cry.

"Aaaaah… Draco!"

The blonde's body fell down heavily beside Harry, out of breath. He laughed and huffed again. Harry, eyes half-closed, glanced at him with an impish smile.

"What's so funny?" he asked in a miffed voice.

"I forgot how loud you could be in bed."

Offended, Harry opened his mouth in a 'o' and swatted Draco's torso, the blonde yelping with exaggeration. Harry rolled aside, gleeful, and hit him again. Draco captured his hand, a slow wrestle ensued. Harry managed to climb on Draco who tried to pull him away by the hair but the brunet fought hard, batting his arms aside. He put all his weight on the blonde and managed to immobilize him, straddling his lap. Draco surrendered with a smile and slapped the tempting arse sticking in the air.

"Hey," Harry protested, then he completely slumped down on the blonde's torso, cutting his air supply. Draco both coughed and laughed and their lips found each other. Harry mewled in his lover's mouth and after a thorough snogging session, Draco rolled over and took back his place on Harry's left.

"I'm not disappointed by the trip," he let out with a satisfied smirk, pulling the sheet completely to his side, leaving Harry half uncovered.

The brunet slammed his hands against the mattress. "You're impossible!" he yelled.

But the blonde only roamed his eyes along his body with a lascivious stare.

"Horny git…" Harry whispered.

A loud feminine laughter resounded somewhere behind their door, in the corridor.

A hotel room. How impersonal… yet, exciting too.

Harry felt like an adulterous man cheating on his partner in a sordid motel. Except it wasn't a little motel but a four star hotel in London, the Blossoms, that and he owed absolutely nothing to MacNair.

The man had asked Harry to get back in touch with Alexander Partridge, the owner of several exclusive brands of alcohol, a man they had approached back at the Ex-Stacy. Harry and Partridge's last encounter had been close to coming to a deal, and MacNair thought there was a chance they could get the man aboard their new casino. Mr Partridge was staying at the Blossoms for the duration of the month. Why not meet at his hotel bar and talk about a new association? It was this occasion or never. MacNair had put Harry in charge, but not without an escort: Peter, the amicable chauffeur would drive him. It was fortunate. Harry and Peter got along well. In fact, Peter would have been fired a hundred times without Harry's intervention. He was a kind-hearted man, and therefore was out of place among the League. But Harry had taken to him almost immediately and MacNair hadn't had the heart to dismiss the man. Peter would be easy to manipulate.

With all these parameters in head, Harry had hurried to share his plan with Draco during one of their stolen moments outside of the apartment. Draco's new hideout was far away from the city so they had little time together. The appointment with Partridge was the perfect opportunity to rectify that. During the too brief encounter and between kisses, Harry had proposed that his lover join him at the hotel on the day of his rendezvous.

He had warned Peter the meeting might drag on and that he could take a break if he wished so. After all it was a harmless conference and Peter should enjoy his time too. Peter hadn't needed any persuading. Harry would call him once the meeting was over.

Anything for a private moment with Draco, far from the eyes and ears of the League.

The meeting had gone well. Partridge was interested and would answer their offer soon. Harry had discretely left the opulent lounge, couples and solitary men and women waiting or talking around him, each with their stories and secrets. Harry could easily recognize the escorts among the people present. He guessed this kind of recognition came with the job, there were signs that he couldn't miss: something in their confident looks, the seduction easy and intent in every gesture, the men slightly unbalanced.

Then he had announced himself at the front desk.

"Mr White for Mr Black." Draco's idea.

_Ting!_

The elevator doors opened and Harry let a couple get out before entering the empty cabin.

A heavy sigh.

His back against the wall of the elevator's cage, Harry pondered about the outright foolishness of his actions. He was taking ill-considered risks meeting Draco like this. He looked at his warped reflection in the doors and wondered what would happen if MacNair called him or if one of MacNair's acquaintances saw him in the corridor.

_Well, you would just use Partridge as an excus_e.

His eyes were riveted on their distorted twins on the steel doors, looking like two black holes. It was as if he was conversing with his other self.

But what if MacNair found out he had left Partridge early?

_Then you could say you decided to have another drink, hang around. Nothing wrong with that. _

Why not? Harry wasn't accountable to MacNair anyway.

The elevator doors opened with a resounding _ting, _his reflection vanishing with it.

A long corridor with refined light fittings suspended all along the walls, a red carpet with geometric patterns, then a big white door with the golden numbers "39".

Upon knocking at the door, Harry's nervousness increased. The clandestineness of the tryst made the moment unsettling. Unfamiliar. It felt like meeting Draco for the first time.

Harry's hand froze in the air, hesitant, then he knocked quickly. In front of the white door, his excitement rising, he ran a hand through his hair and took off his blazer. But it felt awkward, carrying it in his arm. In haste, he put it back on, then the door opened on him. Draco was standing in crisp black trousers with his shirt unbuttoned and a white sleeveless vest showing. A lapse of mind, then Harry said a little "Hi". Draco smiled and opened the door wide to invite him in. It was not the passionate welcome Harry had imagined but the moment was too strange for that. Harry stepped in shyly to discover the king size bed and its plum-coloured cover, generous matching stuffed pillows scattered meticulously across the headboard. The high windows opened onto a large balcony. In the distance, the city with the clouded sky above. The night wouldn't fall for an hour or so but the room was sombre nonetheless.

Harry turned to Draco but the latter's phone rang before he could speak. The blonde looked at the screen and with an apologetic air took the call. He paced back and forth, talking to Pansy it seemed, something about a missing key. Harry wasn't listening. Seeing Draco so distracted gave him the impression that they were two strangers having an illicit affair. He dropped his blazer on a chair, noticing the discrete chic of the decoration, the beautiful white vase with freshly cut orchids on the table, the contemporary styled white furniture and the decorative pebbles on the ledge of the faux fireplace.

After going round in circles for a long moment, he decided to sit on the bed. It was hot in the room, and Harry took his jumper off. He caught Draco's look. The blonde was observing him with an interested eye while Pansy's voice poured out at the other end of the phone. So Harry decided to make a game out of it, taking his time to unbutton his blue shirt, popping the press studs one by one and discarding the clothing on the chair nearby. Then he moved on to the tee-shirt, peeling it off languorously, exposing his flat stomach and his smooth torso. Draco wasn't listening to Pansy anymore, muttering "Yes, yes…" indifferently, his eyes captivated by his lover's striptease. He cut the discussion short with a "I call you back" and hung up. He divested himself of his shirt and vest with an animalistic expression. Right then, Harry's growing confidence dulled.

On the bed in his blue trousers, under Draco's hungry stare, he felt like covering himself up like a blushing virgin. It was the entire situation that looked shameful. The evidence of the hotel, bringing him back to his filthy past: they were there for one thing only and Harry felt suddenly uncomfortable with it. All the more so that Draco had still to speak to him. But when the blonde leaned toward him and gently ran a hand through his dark hair, all his fears flew out the window and they were gone for a wild ride under the sheets.

.

The loud feminine laughter died down the corridor.

Harry tugged the sheets back toward him and glared at Draco. The blonde shushed all possible reprimand with a searing kiss. It did the trick. Harry smiled and sank into Draco's arms. He felt sore but it wasn't unpleasant. He wanted to keep the feeling of Draco inside him for as long as he could. He caressed the blonde's shoulders, admiring his body. It was perfection in his eyes. Draco sighed and turned his head to look him in the eye, a pensive expression on his face.

"What is it?" Harry asked with a small voice, caressing his firm stomach.

"I don't like the way that bastard treats you…" Draco whispered. "Did he hurt you?"

Harry stiffened. "What?" he blurted out.

"The night I was there, I heard a commotion. Was he violent with you?"

Harry shook his head dully. "No." He propped himself on one elbow and dropped a kiss on the blonde's forehead. "No," he repeated, looking straight into his eyes to make his words more convincing, "He was insistent, and I didn't like it, that's all."

He pecked Draco's lips to brush the matter away.

"But…" Draco paused, then, "… did he ever force himself on you?"

The question Harry dreaded.

Out of reflex, he averted his eyes, and that was a sign that didn't lie. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words. Harry opened his mouth to make a parry, but it was too late.

Draco grabbed his chin and turned his face to him, forcing him to look him in the eyes. His features were tense, crushed. He didn't ask again. He knew.

Harry's eyes shone with emotion in the solemn room and he broke away to spare Draco the sight. The blonde jumped out of bed and hollered with rage behind him. Then a crashing noise. Harry turned and saw the decorative books from the chest littered across the floor.

"That son of a bitch!" Draco shouted, clutching at the hair on his neck. "He dared… That fucking bastard! I'll kill him!"

Harry stayed seated on the bed's edge, bemused, the sheet pooling around his waist. He looked at Draco spewing out his anger. "Please," he said in a soft voice.

Draco heard his plea but seemed incapable of channelling his anger. He stomped his foot against the bathroom door with a grumble.

"Please," Harry repeated.

The soft spoken words finally reached Draco who ceased his comings and goings to stop right in front of him. Harry looked so fragile with his elbows tight against his body and his head lowered. Draco rushed to his side to envelop him into his arms, caressing his back in a consoling motion.

"Fuck…" he whispered before burying his nose in Harry's hair.

They stayed entwined for a few moments and when peace settled in their bodies, they lay down again and let themselves drift away.

Their heads were touching, fair and dark hair mingling, two set of eyes turned toward the ceiling. Draco's fingers tinkled against Harry's and suddenly, he spoke out again, his voice filled with bitterness.

"I can't believe that bastard touched you like that."

Harry had struggled to bury the cruel memory of that night deep inside, and hearing Draco talk about the assault with so much rage and sadness brought him inexorably back to that cold parquet, the blood pulsing in his head and MacNair, his sour breath against his cheek, pushing again and again inside him with obscene grunts. He tipped his head to the side and put his arm across his eyes to chase the painful images away.

"Let's talk about something else," he offered.

He felt a wet mouth against his torso and lifted his elbow to look at the blonde peppering his chest with kisses. He put his palm on the blonde's nape, the pulp of his fingers massaging the silky hair at the top of his neck when he heard the dark voice of Draco against his skin.

"I'll make him pay for what he did to you."

A promise.

Harry didn't want one. He wasn't looking for revenge. He wanted to be far away from MacNair, the League, McCarthy. Escape with Draco, be forgotten and disappear.

A knock at the door started both of them. They sat up and stared at each other.

"Did you –" Harry began, but Draco put a finger on his mouth to silence him. He rapidly put on his trousers, took out his gun from under the bed and moved to the door. Silently, he looked through the peephole. He motioned for Harry to get out of sight and slowly opened the door, his gun along his thigh and his face pressed to the door, ready to shoot.

From his hidden place in the bathroom entrance, Harry gripped the door edge, Draco's shirt slung on. He strained his ears and heard a foreign voice but there was no uproar. The door closed and he took a peek. Draco had tucked his gun behind his back, under his belt, and when he turned to the brunet, he had a bottle of champagne in his hands.

Harry closed his eyes and let out a breath.

"You're stupid! You got me scared."

"Hey, I had to be careful. You never know what can happen…" Draco said, stripping the bottle's wax seal.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry drawled.

Draco stood next to him and the champagne cork flew with a pop. Alcohol poured freely from the bottle, covering Draco's hand. Harry let escape a laugh while the blonde drank right from the bottle. With one arm, he pulled Harry to him and kissed him to share the delicious beverage. The bubbles fizzed on his tongue, and he let himself fall on the carpet, Draco by his side.

Their backs against the foot of the bed, they stole each other's breath, their knees turned facing and Draco's hands fumbling to open Harry's shirt. Next, Draco took the bottle and drove it to his lover's mouth. Harry drank and drank till the alcohol slid down his chin. The blonde licked him clean and drank some more.

"Nice celebration," he slurred.

Harry giggled and tucked his head on the blonde's shoulder. "This is all I need, you and a good bottle of champagne."

Draco smiled in approval and lifted a finger. "And a nice firm bed."

He took another gulp of champagne and Harry chose this moment to playfully jab his ribs with his elbow. Draco spat out the beverage, his naked torso drenched with the liquid. He couldn't let Harry get away with that and put the bottle aside to imprison his lover's hands behind his back. Their lips crashed and the force of Draco's assault felled Harry onto his back. The blonde was all over him, his sticky torso sliding along his stomach and up his chest. Harry put his hands against his shoulders to push him off him, a smile on his lips.

"Hey!" Harry whined, "You're making a mess all over me!"

Draco chuckled darkly. "Oh, not yet love but don't worry, it will come." He dropped his gun on the corner of the bed and settled to ravish the brunet. His hips framed by the slender legs, he rubbed himself sensually against him. Harry moaned with pleasure, but energized by the alcohol and the skilled caresses, he pushed Draco more firmly and managed to crawl away. He pulled himself to his feet, took a glance behind to see Draco ready to pounce, and ran to the bathroom, laughing like a child. Once inside, he tried to close the door behind him but Draco was already there, pushing with all his force. Harry had no chance.

He tried to block the door with his might but finally let go. The door opened. The blonde stood there. They both breathed heavily, staring in each other's eyes, still and silent. Then Draco moved with the confidence of a feline and in three strides, he was flush against Harry, devouring his mouth, worshipping his body with his hands.

"Harry, you've been a naughty boy," he whispered, his voice dripping with lust.

He opened his trousers and in a swift motion was stark naked. He advanced again, forcing Harry to shadow his movement and step back. Draco outstretched his arm behind the brunet's back and opened the shower cabin door.

"Dirty, dirty," he whispered, sliding a finger on Harry's wet torso. "You need a good cleaning."

In a flash, he pulled Harry up against him and turned the water on. Before Harry realized what was happening, his back bumped against the tiled wall and water poured over him.

"Fuck", he breathed, Draco's mouth nibbling his ear.

In a precarious balance, he flanked his hand against the cubicle side wall and looped his legs behind his lover's back. More aroused than ever, his soaked shirt hanging from his shoulders and his hair plastered to his face, he squeezed Draco's firm buttocks with his left hand and kissed him wildly. The warmth of the water and the steam heightened their desire and Draco decided it was time. He buried his fingers in the sweet entrance, his strong legs tense under the weight of the brunet, and pushed Harry further onto the wall to lift him enough. A breath and he pushed his cock inside Harry. The brunet's fingers closed painfully on his shoulder. A tense moan. Then Draco was fully sheathed inside. He pulled out and inside again, more forcefully. Harry cried out and his hand slid against the glass door with a slippery noise, a wet trail in its path. Draco grabbed his bum and pounded into him roughly.

It was a possessive fuck, and the message was clear: MacNair had no rights to him, only Draco's body could make him feel like that, so completely owned.

The embrace was so ardent Draco's legs suddenly gave out. Harry's body slid down, Draco with it, so their bodies were crumpled on the bottom of the shower in a mess of limbs. Harry's body was almost bent in half, sprawled on the porcelain floor, his head twisted at an odd angle against the tiles, and his feet against the opposite wall of the cabin. Draco's hips didn't stop their movement, his body hunched over the brunet. Harry was so lost in pleasure, his mouth trembled uncontrollably. The blonde pressed himself closer, pushing deeper inside, grunting and licking Harry's neck. Water was dripping all over their bodies, mingling with their saliva, drawing wet patterns on their skin and washing them away.

Harry hooked his arms around Draco's back and kissed him breathlessly, the white cotton shirt almost translucent on his pale arms. Draco's firm arse clenched in sharp thrusts. His face was tense with effort and in a sudden movement, he grabbed one of Harry's leg and put it over his shoulder. Harry gasped and jerked his head back against the wall, the penetration deeper, pain and pleasure so close he couldn't tell the difference anymore. He keened and pressed Draco closer, their bodies so entangled they looked like an unnatural beast. Harry couldn't hold himself at that point: he rubbed himself to completion and felt Draco about to come in turn. He opened his eyes and looked at the blonde's face. On the peak of his orgasm, his nose scrunched up, his forehead crumpled and his eyes tightly closed. It wasn't pretty - a grimace - but Harry found it beautiful nevertheless. Then Draco's features relaxed and his content expression made him glow. It was a priceless sight and Harry felt compelled to kiss Draco again. Draco ran his thumb along the side of Harry's neck and pulled him up so they could sit more comfortably. Their bodies were aching all over but they had no strength left and the water felt so soothing they stayed put.

.

Once dry and clean, Harry and Draco rapidly found the way back to bed, laying naked on the covers. Harry didn't want to look at the clock. He knew it was late and that the separation was close but he didn't want to think of MacNair and his golden cage. He was like a prisoner out on day release. This idea soon led to another one. A question that nagged Harry since Draco's return.

Harry sat up in silence. Before his inquisitive eyes, the blonde pulled a pillow to him and nestled his head over it to look back at him. They stared at each other then Harry asked, "How did you get away?"

Draco frowned and Harry clarified, "At Reading, with the explosion, how did you get away?"

Draco gripped his pillow to get more comfortable but it felt like a nervous gesture. He sighed, eyes now on the ceiling. His attitude unsettled Harry who looked at him more attentively.

Draco recounted, "When you got away, I ran out of the room. I couldn't stay there… And when I saw you were locked upstairs, I caught up with Goyle. He was the only one who didn't come after you… He knew I didn't want anything to happen to you. He heard the commotion upstairs and he knew you had to get out, so he suggested we go outside. That's when I saw the men in black with their guns… They were too many… and I realized we were all going to die. I did what I had to do."

At those last words, Harry knew Draco had to make a difficult choice. He also knew it was his way of asking not to judge him by his actions. It still remained to be seen what actions this was about.

"With Goyle, we went down the cellar. You remember the arsenal downstairs? Nitro, lots of munitions, an explosive mix. There was on old underpass behind a well-concealed trapdoor. It had been built during the war. It was a very old tunnel, unsafe. But I had no choice."

Harry remembered Matthew's words when he had given him a tour of the house.

"_It conceals many secrets__."_

He had found him awfully mysterious at the time. It was all clear now.

"I was already inside when Goyle prepared the fuse. We only had a few seconds. We got off at full speed, crawling like insects. Nothing to be proud about."

Draco ran a hand over his face, seemingly tired to reawaken the past.

"Believe me, we felt the explosion all right. There was a cave-in and we very nearly died down there… As it happened, it came handy: it erased all trace of the tunnel." He sighed. "But we made it out alive. We ended up at the other end of the plot of land, in the forest… We escaped right under their nose."

Harry had difficulty believing that it was Draco who had blown up the whole house. Lucius his father, Montague, Nott, the whole gang. Even if the attack had left them little chance, they could have fought for their lives.

As if reading his mind, Draco kept on, "I don't regret my decision. I had to survive. Them, they wouldn't have hesitated… And I could finally disappear. At that moment, that was all I was asking for."

Draco was bitter in his words and Harry wished he hadn't asked him the question. He too was submerged in unpleasant memories. They both had made difficult choices to survive.

But time was ticking by. Harry couldn't linger on. He peered at Draco with sad eyes.

"I've got to go."

Draco's lips tightened into a thin line, his eyes riveted to Harry.

"I don't want you to go back there… With that dog…"

Harry had nothing to say to that. They both knew the situation.

"A few more days…" Draco added while staring at Harry's locks sticking up behind his ear. "I'll get you out of there," he continued, now running his finger along the shell of his ear.

Harry kissed him suddenly, hugging him tight against his chest. Eyes closed, Harry willed himself to get out of the warm sheets. He took a breath and got up, collecting his boxer shorts forgotten at the foot of the bed. While getting dressed, he heard Draco rise behind him. Back to back, on opposite sides of the bed, they prepared without a word.

After a moment, Harry turned and observed the taut shoulders of the blonde. He slowly climbed back on the bed and crawled forward until he found himself right against Draco's back, his mouth on the golden neck. By the silence and the stillness of his lover, Harry could guess the sorrowful expression on his face. So he murmured in his ear, a smile on his voice, "I must come back next Monday, same hour, to sort out the last details. If you want us to meet again…..."

Draco snapped his head around, the corner of his lips upturned into a sardonic smile, "And you're telling me now?"

Harry's smile widened. He drew away from Draco, hands up, and explained quickly, anticipating retaliation,

"It wouldn't have been that intense if I'd told you right from the word go…"

Draco sat up in a flash. "Little bastard."

Harry looked at him with trepidation, ready to duck, when the blonde lunged at him and tickled him without respite. Harry contorted himself, bursting out in laughter, and what a world of good it did for him to finally let his dark thoughts aside!

Like a big child, Draco asked, "Do you surrender?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Harry yelled, barely able to breathe. He hooked his arms around Draco's neck and whispered, "I love you."

Draco kissed him again. There was no need for him to return the words. They both knew now without having to say what they felt about each other. Draco rose, Harry flanked by his side, forced to follow the movement. He grasped Draco's hands and spoke softly.

"See you in a couple of days."

He parted from Draco, their hands still joined, their arms extending the more they walked apart, then their fingers finally let go and Harry disappeared behind the door.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**April 23,2005**

A fancy restaurant with high lanterns on the ceiling, monochrome paintings on the ochre walls. A delicate cuisine and an irreproachable service. Harry was seated across from MacNair at their usual table, in an intimate corner, for a candlelit diner. The tête-à-tête nights out had been rare these last weeks, due to their conflicted relationship. Harry had clearly kept his distance and MacNair surely hoped to bring them closer by this surprise dinner.

Harry was eating his scallops while peering at the other clients, so bourgeois, so normal. And he, he was just sitting there, playing his part. A bogus couple. Rubbish. MacNair stared at him with insistence and made conversation alone in a vain attempt to break the ice. He could tell Harry was elsewhere.

"I'm glad all went well with Partridge," he said. "You did a good job."

"I didn't have much to do," Harry answered distractedly.

"It's not easy to promote a new casino, more so when a new organization's involved," MacNair insisted. "I'm proud of you."

Harry smiled weakly and took another bite without reviving the conversation. MacNair put his foot in it.

"I realize those last weeks have been difficult, and that… I haven't behaved properly with you. I only hope you can get past it and come back to me."

Harry didn't understand the man. They were still together. He was polite and agreed to his decisions, so where was the problem? What more did he want? He put his fork down on his plate.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked. "Everything's fine. I'm here with you, am I not?"

MacNair wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned slightly over the table.

"No, it's been a long time since you were here."

Harry blinked. Recently, MacNair's behaviour had not led him to think there was any trouble between them, at least not more than usual. Even the Draco episode had gone relatively smoothly. He was sure his act had been credible…He took a moment to gather his thoughts - it wouldn't do to spoil it all now – and started with difficulty, "I'm sorry it's just that…" He didn't know how to formulate the thing. _"You abused me, so how can you expect me to jump on you with a smile on my face?"_

He stuttered, "Lately… I mean after… with the withdrawal on top of it, I…"

MacNair interrupted him by tenderly covering his hand.

"I recognise I hurt you, but I'm not one to look behind. I made a terrible mistake, and now I want us to move on. And I want you to be with me. Fully."

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. The candlelit dinner, his hand on his, 'to be with him fully'…

"Oh no…Walden…" he whispered, mortified.

MacNair guessed the course of his thoughts and burst with laughter.

"No. No, Harry," he said between two chuckles, "I'm not talking about marriage!"

Harry relaxed his shoulders, the moment of panic passed.

"No, I want you to come to Brussels with me," MacNair clarified. "I think there's an interesting market for us over there. I made contact with some people, and I'm satisfied with the answers I got. I've been thinking this over for a few weeks now." He paused and planted his eyes on Harry's, more resolute than ever. "I want to open a new branch and settle there for a while."

Harry had not expected this. He was astounded, unable to voice his thoughts.

Brussels, Belgium. Far from home. Far from Draco.

His impassivity seemed to trouble MacNair who felt the need to go on and try to convince him with his unwavering voice, "I want to leave the continent. We can't breathe here! Don't you want to discover new horizons, to meet other people? Leave the past behind?"

He looked at Harry who, incredulous, began to discern MacNair's plans behind his sudden declaration and saw Draco's fall apart.

"It's the matter of a year, maybe more," the man added.

He let a moment pass to give Harry the time to ponder his proposition, but the brunet kept silent.

MacNair cleared his throat, and his tone was now restrained, "I gave you time with Draco. I don't need to know what happened between the two of you, I don't give a fuck, you had your goodbyes. Now we can have a fresh start, you and me."

Harry kept his eyes lowered and his stubborn silence finally managed to irritate MacNair who took hold of his hand, his voice low but categorical,

"I see clearly in you, you're still hanging onto him. But you'll end up realizing where your interests rest. I've been more than comprehensive, I closed my eyes, but now it's over. It's. Over."

Harry felt sick. So his apparent gesture of trust had been his way to control him. To give him a few hours with Draco and then order he cease. Now he expected him to say thank you and goodbye?

MacNair's voice came back, as insidious as ever.

"I'm not a fool, I'm not asking for your love but… merely your affection and respect. I need someone by my side, and I chose you."

Harry scrutinized him, the tension palpable. He was at the point of suffocation. Dying to lash out, he grasped his napkin in his fist and furiously turned his head away from MacNair when the waiter suddenly sprung up at their table.

"Gentlemen, did you enjoy your meal?" he asked, clearing their plates and cutlery away.

A silence answered him and the waiter was polite enough not to pursue.

MacNair's stare didn't leave Harry once and when the waiter finally left, he declared, "I won't accept any rebuttal. You're coming with me or you can pack, leave and find a really good place to hide 'cause if I can't have you, he certainly won't."

The ultimatum was crystal clear, but did Harry have a choice?

* * *

**Anonymous:** Thanks for the compliment, sweetie! I'm glad you like MacNair's character. He's very ambiguous and temperamental. He cares for Harry but at the same time, he knows his feelings are not reciprocated and it drives him mad. So it's only fair he's both detestable and touching.

I'm so happy you find Harry both strong and weak. I don't want him to look like a complete push over. He can stand his ground too, but he's a broken man. We'll see a stronger side of him in later chapters. Of course Draco's a real softie. He's looking all tough and confident but inside he's vulnerable and romantic at heart. A nice combination.

**Anon:** You're too kind. A classic? Well, that's a nice dream. Thank you for that.

**Kay:** Why, it's nice of you to say. I can't tell you yet if they'll have their happy ever after, but I'm confident the ending won't disappoint. Anyway, we're not there yet… Thank you for reviewing!

**Izzy**: Here's the awaited update! I hope you liked it. And thank you miss, you're too kind.


	26. What Goes Around Comes Around

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing MsLefay. Thank you for your incredible rapidity and you thorough corrections!

* * *

**CHAPTER 25 : WHAT GOES AROUN****D COMES AROUND**

**May 2, 2005**

Back in room 39, Harry and Draco were naked on the sheets, the covers pushed down to the foot of the bed. After having enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh, they were luxuriating in each other's simple presence. Harry was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, eyes lowered to his pillow while Draco stared at him with bewilderment.

"A year? This bastard wants to take you away from me!"

He let out a furious breath, sat up against the headboard and hooked his hands around his bent legs. Harry didn't comment, his fingers fiddling with the corner of his pillow. Draco seemed concentrated, staring nowhere, then his eyes squinted abruptly. He jumped out of the bed, suddenly very energetic.

"Then we need to act and fast. We already spread the rumours, the Vanderberghs are ready to burst out and we've put pressure on the other gangs who are in trouble with the League. We'll push them harder," he said, rubbing his hands, his eyes alit with devilish intent. "We'll set up a false attack signed MacNair. They'll be forced to retaliate."

His eyes flew to Harry's discarded clothes, his eyes pensive again. He lay back on the bed and then leisurely ran his hand over the brunet's back, travelling down his spine, to the curve of his bum. Harry shivered and turned his head to look at him. The blonde seemed lost in blind contemplation. His mind was reeling.

He lifted his eyes to meet Harry's and closed on him like a snake, biting the brunet's round bottom. Harry shrieked and turned around. Draco smiled cockily, his stare fierce and sexy. He grabbed Harry's hips to pull him closer and massage his battered cheeks. It was nice to fool around like this, but the threat of his departure made Harry sullen and tired. He put his head back on his pillow without taking his eyes from the blonde.

"The problem with our plan is that once it's launched, we won't control anything anymore. The Vanderberghs can attack anywhere, anytime, and that, love, is not a good thing..." he resumed in a calculating tone.

He paused then, staring intently at Harry, his hand on the small of his lover's back.

"There's another option."

Harry looked away a few seconds, knowing patently he wouldn't like Draco's idea.

"I need you to find a way to gather the Elders in a quite and safe place, somewhere where we could come down on them without a fuss. You organize a fake meeting about… I don't know… you can make up something about the club, something trivial so they come in trust."

Draco's talk was confident, he made it look like it would be easy and harmless.

"They won't even have the time to realize they've been set up before we get rid of them."

Harry snapped his head around with a frown.

"You told me we'd oust the League, that… that we would make them bite the dust, not that we would shoot them down!" he stuttered with an accusing tone. "I don't want you to kill him!"

Draco wrenched his hand away from Harry's body as if slapped and backed away.

"You don't want to kill _him_?" he hissed. "It's not the League, it's him you want to protect? He who fucking abused you, or did you forget?"

Harry shook his head. It was irrelevant.

"I'm not trying to protect anyone but I don't want there to be more killings!" he cried out, sitting up in one go.

"Yes? Well you'll get that once MacNair and his followers are out of the picture! Can't you see that? The world will be a better a place without them!"

"Oh please, you don't care about that! Don't play this card with me! I know you too well… I…" He slammed his hand on the mattress, frustrated he couldn't make his point. "Whatever! I don't want to be involved in murder!"

Draco lifted exasperated eyes and yelled, "Do you fucking hear yourself? You're living with bloody murderers! You're already in it up to your neck!"

Harry narrowed his eyes to slits.

"I'm nothing like them. I'm here to make them fall."

"Then where's the problem?"

"The problem is I don't want you to kill them in cold blood!" Harry shouted, rising from the bed in a tense posture.

Draco ran a hand through his hair and retorted with a bitter smirk, "Yes? Well McCarthy will take care of it anyway. You'll have blood on your hands one way or the other!"

The blonde alighted from the bed in turn and roughly slipped his boxer briefs on.

"No, McCarthy wanted your head, but this is different now," Harry countered. "He only wants to dismantle the network."

Draco caught his bottom lip between his teeth and cocked his head aside. "Oh, so for you, McCarthy is worth more than me."

Ok, the conversation was taking a most delicate turn. It seemed impossible to get back on the right track. Everything was misinterpreted, their words twisted.

"I never said that! I'm just saying I don't want you to kill Walden!"

Harry kicked himself for his slip of the tongue. Here it was, the final straw. He had said 'Walden' like he was intimate with the man. Draco nodded cynically and Harry hated what he saw in his grey eyes: betrayal and despise.

"Ok, things are clear now," he said coolly. "Since when did you become so attached to him?"

_No, please don't start…_

Harry shook his head, eyes shiny. When Draco took that tone, it was already lost.

"Don't be silly, he's nothing to me! How can you believe…?" Harry answered with a quivering voice.

But Draco wasn't listening to him anymore.

"So your little kisses, your blasted sweet words… It wasn't bluff."

Draco's accusations were ridiculous. He would realize it soon enough, but blinded by his anger, he had lost all rationality. Harry took a step forward

"You damn well know it was! I don't feel anything for him!" Harry let out a small hysterical laugh, overwhelmed by the turn of events. "Please! You're the one I love, you know that!"

"So when did it change?"

Draco had a mad air which told Harry he had reached his limits. He picked up his clothes and swung his hand in the air, his shirt flying with it. "But go ahead, leave with him if that's what you want!"

"You're not thinking straight, I don't-"

"Go with him!" Draco shouted.

He finished dressing furiously and Harry, his head between his hands, didn't know what to say to make it better. All his words were turned against him.

Draco was ready to leave and with a stubborn air dashed to the door.

"No, no, no, wait! Draco, wait!" Harry implored, then he tried to grip the blonde's arm to keep him from leaving. But Draco would not yield and pushed his hand away, slamming the door with a loud bam. Harry stepped back with uncertain eyes until his legs bumped against the bed. He collapsed onto it, in had it all gone pear-shaped?

With dull eyes, he stayed naked on the bed, the city lights in his back.

Now what?

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**May 4, 2005**

Harry hadn't seen Draco since their fight. He had managed to leave the house by himself the previous day and go to the Westfield shopping centre. It was the only semblance of meeting place they had. He had waited for the blonde's appearance for hours, wandering and entering shops aimlessly. MacNair had him followed, he was sure of it, and that may have been the reason why Draco never showed up, but… No, it was a pitiful excuse. He knew that Draco would have found another way to contact him. He had awaited Draco for two hours in vain, stopping in his tracks every time a blonde head crossed his field of vision, but it was never him.

Back home, MacNair was still on the phone. It looked like he was calling out every associate and ex-wizards he knew. The Lestranges had joined him to help with the preparation of Wednesday's big event. On the couch, Harry was watching this agitation with detachment. He allowed himself to imagine his soon-to-be reconciliation with Draco.

They needed to put things straight and move on. How could Draco blame him?

Harry had been persuaded that once the anger had worn off and time had done its work, Draco would have understood he had nothing to fear and that there was no reason to doubt his feelings for him. Harry didn't love MacNair and never would. He was perfectly aware that MacNair was an unscrupulous man and that he was too dangerous to be left walking around, yet he couldn't condone his murder. How could he? Draco and his organisation had drawn blood too! But did they also deserve any less than to be put down like dogs? Well, Harry pondered, maybe he was partial where Draco was concerned.

"I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important. Do that for me, please!"

Rodolphus pleading voice had disrupted Harry's reflection. What was so important the man had to ask for favour?

"She deserves to have her name on it. She's a victim too and you know she's as good as dead. Please, I-"

"Yes, yes… You don't have to persuade me," MacNair's voice interrupted.

Of course, Bellatrix. Harry had heard of her oh so sad story. She had been committed in a psychiatric institute a long time ago, apparently almost immediately after her medical visit to one of London's "Welcome Centres", and despite all the strings the Elders had pulled, she had never left. She was rotting there, half-dead. Harry thought it was an appropriate destiny. Death was too sweet for that crazy bitch.

A kiss softly tingled his forehead. It was MacNair, hovering over him with a soft look.

"Sweetheart, do you have a special request for the ceremony?"

Always the thoughtful man, always enquiring about his needs…

Draco had not been completely wrong. Harry had grown attached to MacNair. It had been insidious: it was not love, nor friendship or respect, but they had shared hardship together and a strange link had formed between them. In his own twisted way, MacNair cared for Harry, and no matter how strongly Harry denied it, he was not impervious to this unrequited love. How could he kill a man who looked at him like that?

Harry shook his head and soon jarred by the unrelenting phone calls, moved to the terrace and sat on the wooden bench he and Draco had shared a few weeks ago.

Harry had learned to understand how MacNair functioned, his weaknesses, his human side, and he had discovered his ways were not that different from his blonde lover. Survival and self-preservation were the keys, and no one was innocent in their little world. Harry condemned their actions, but it was not his place to punish him for that. He couldn't do it.

Surely it wouldn't be an obstacle to his relationship with Draco. They had overcome so much more. Draco couldn't let him go this way, without giving him a chance to explain himself. To think that they might never see each other again…

Harry was lost in the sullen contemplation of the landscape when MacNair joined him. The man placed himself in front of the balustrade, his elbows on the railing and his eyes on the horizon.

"I already found us a beautiful apartment in Brussels. There's a splendid view of the Grand-Place," he said, waving his hand in the air. "You'll like it there."

MacNair turned to Harry and saw him nod vaguely. He stepped forward cautiously and crouched in front of the brunet to give him an intense stare.

Their tête-à-tête at the restaurant had enraged Harry who couldn't fathom how MacNair could satisfy himself with a one-way relationship, but at least it had put things straight. With that gained honesty, Harry could allow himself to be more direct with the man, to share his feelings and turn him down when he saw fit. Their relationship had moved to a strange status quo. Harry would not bed him and MacNair would not force the issue.

MacNair brushed the black fringe from Harry's forehead.

"It will chase your black thoughts. Come on let me see your beautiful smile."

Harry closed his eyes tiredly then looked up at him. The corner of his lips barely twitched.

"It's not it yet," MacNair said with a false brooding air.

His expression was comical and unusual enough to steal a real smile from Harry.

The man dropped a kiss on his lips. "Better."

But Harry didn't want to encourage him or give him false hopes. He didn't agree to this trip and they would never, ever be a couple.

"Don't expect me to jump for joy," he warned. "I'm leaving my country for one whose language I don't even know."

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure." MacNair assured him. "Besides, we still have a few weeks in front of us."

He sat next to Harry a few moments then suddenly he whispered, "You won't regret it." It had come as a surprise, like a thought voiced by mistake. Clearly, his statement was not referring to the trip.

They kept silent until MacNair's mobile rang again.

Harry kept forefront in his head the only true reason which held him back. Leaving England was all very well, but leaving Draco…

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**May 6, 2005**

The League had organized a grand ceremony at Bath Abbey. Six years. It had been six years since their lives had been turned upside down. The clans had come in number, bringing families and partners, most of them former wizards, but also a few muggles who had joined their circles. Some of them didn't even care about the extinction of magic, the people who had fallen during the repression, or the hateful groups that were still running wild across the world. They had come only for form's sake. The women gathered around the West Front entrance with their sumptuous jewels, the men with their branded suits: the guests' arrival looked like a fashion show. Harry had arrived among the last, along with MacNair and his troops. The guests came and saluted them with respectful stares in front of the imposing gothic façade, most of them trying to have a word with the big boss, but this time was not for business and soon they entered inside.

The people fanned out into the pews in long black rows under the tragic notes of the organ. The place was packed. Walking up the central aisle, Harry recognized a few faces, but the benches were too dense for him to spot many. MacNair pulled the brunet by his side to take their seats on the front row.

The ceremony began in a meditative atmosphere. The religious ritual was respected. MacNair had found it appropriate. According to him, the religious ceremony was more worthy of their rank than a laic commemoration. Although a non believer he appreciated the reverence with which the reverend said the prayers, the emphasis of his words and gestures, the spirituality that emanated from all this ceremonial protocol.

The priest was now talking about forgiveness and repentance. MacNair pretended to be moved by his message of peace, but Harry was unconvinced. A huge golden plaque with the list of the dead wizards' names had pride of place on the platform, next to the lectern. The list was painfully long. They had engraved the names officially released by the authorities and then added others they had gathered throughout the years. No one knew the true account. It was a major topic of discord, and the memorial was another way to rebel against the false public declarations. The massacres that had taken place after the revelation of the wizard kind's existence had been refuted by numerous groups. Half of the population still refused to acknowledge those deaths to this day.

Harry was moved by the priest's oration and his prayers for the lost souls now in peace by God's side, but he soon felt smothered by his reproachful stare. He was certain the reverend had observed him during the whole ceremony, as if seeing right through him: _He's the one at fault. He's the one who spread chaos. Evil…_ In the cold church, the priest's voice resounding between the stone columns, Harry felt his head spinning dangerously. A terrible guilt ate him inside, ever faithful companion.

But here, in this church, he felt he could perhaps expiate his faults. He closed his eyes tight and downed on his knees, his legs meeting the hassock's hard wood and his hands joining with the force of his desire to believe. Addressing himself to any god who would listen to him, he prayed like a repentant looking for absolution.

_I beg of you, wherever you are, forgive me. Erase my sins, I'll do anything you want. Take this weigh off my shoulders, I can't bear it anymore. I'm not strong enough. I don't want to cause any more misery, I don't want any more deaths. Take off this malediction that plagues me. I never wanted to provoke this, I swear. I never wanted magic to end. Please help me. Someone help me. _

Harry felt alone in the world. Was someone hearing him up there? Was there still someone who believed in him?

Harry couldn't tell but he wanted to believe so. He grabbed the wooden bar and got up, dusting off his black suit before sitting back on the bench, his hands joined on his lap. MacNair caught his hand and squeezed it briefly, Harry never lifting his eyes toward him. He didn't want to look at his false compassion. It would be inappropriate.

While the reverend kept preaching about tolerance and love, Harry looked up at the beautiful stained glass windows skyward with its majestic icons, then down at the altar before darting his eyes left and right over the people gathered in the assembly: some people he had met, respectable clans who had allied with them, the Kells who had suited up for once, the Dawsons and Manning families showing uncharacteristic solemnity and seriousness. They looked like a strange patchwork, all seated there together, eclectic groups gathered for the occasion.

Noises. Restless children whining here and there, coughing, benches creaking. Some people were engaged in private prayer, some daydreaming. Overall, the assembly was respectful. The tragedy had not spared anyone.

Then his eyes widened and froze when he caught sight of Draco sitting next to Pansy, Sammy and –_ what's his name already?_ - _Sandro, yes_, three rows behind him in a corner. Pansy was in tears, her shoulder against Draco's, the blonde's arm wrapped around her. Sammy and Sandro on the other hand seemed more detached, sweeping their eyes over the gangs around. Harry stayed a few moments like this, observing them from the corner of his eye. Draco kept his eyes on the clergyman but it was impossible that he had not noticed Harry in the front row. Harry turned his face around, eyes lost on the pew arm-rest. Draco hadn't granted him one look.

The service ended an hour later and MacNair walked out of the narrow row to go thank the pastor, passing in front of Harry whose eyes were still turned in Draco's direction. He needed to intercept him and talk to him.

Had MacNair invited Draco? Harry had no illusions. If it was the case, it was a merely formality. This day was supposed to be a time of communion. But Draco's presence raised another problem. Was he here to incite a coup? He couldn't be. There were too many people around. Plus Pansy was here too… It was more likely she insisted he came. Her parents were on the commemorative plaque. It certainly meant something to her. For Draco, it was also the occasion to discover the ensemble of MacNair's new partners and remember himself to them. But despite all the possible reasons Draco had come, Harry nursed the slightest hope Draco was here for him.

Afraid to lose sight of them, Harry hurried and wormed his way through the sea of people around him. On his toes, he craned his neck and located Draco and his group nearby in the crowd. They were slowly making their way to the exit. Harry rushed forward and briefly searched for MacNair with his eyes: the man was by the exit doors, surrounded by people throwing glances at him, hoping to have a moment with him, favours to ask or simply paying their respects. Others, more fearful, kept their distance. He was too absorbed with all this attention to notice Harry had stayed behind.

Harry slowed his pace, his eyes lowered and his attitude reserved. He hadn't expected Draco to come and hadn't prepared anything. How to repair what had been broken in a few stolen moments. But Draco was not far from him now. He had to seize the opportunity. Hands hesitating and eyes scanning the flow of people exiting, expecting an opening, he took the plunge. Draco was only a meter from him. Harry outstretched his hand to tap his shoulder and Draco's head snapped around. Upon recognising Harry, the blonde's face turned cold. And that disdainful stare!

"What do you want?" he bit out.

Harry glanced at MacNair in the distance, on the alert, then said in a low tone, chin dropped, "I don't want us to part on a misunderstanding. You know I have no intention of leaving. We got carried away… and I guess I didn't explain myself very well."

His intervention didn't have the anticipated effect. Draco was closed to the dialogue and averted his eyes.

"On the contrary, it's clear for me," he retorted sharply. "You don't want to do anything against MacNair, fine. We'll handle it ourselves."

Harry jumped. "No!" He was full of self-restraint, lowering his voice and minimizing his movements. "What are you going to do?"

No answer. Harry grabbed Draco's arm and pulled it against his side so as not to draw attention. They were both very close now, their stormy eyes meeting in a silent war.

"I forbid you…" Harry seethed.

"Nothing. You decide nothing." Draco sharply pulled his arm out of his grip and Harry closed his eyes with frustration.

But when Draco was about to leave the premises, Harry caught up with him and took his hand, the contact provoking a shock almost electric along his arm. Pansy had already taken her leave to let them settle their scores. Sammy wasn't as thoughtful and stayed by Draco's side to make sure there would be no outburst. While they were crossing the wide doorway among the other guests lingering around the entrance, the rain fell on them full force, but Harry didn't pay attention to it.

He whispered to Draco while looking around him to avoid drawing suspicion, "Please, you know how I feel!" He softly squeezed the blonde's hand he hadn't let go. "But I can't set them up for their deaths. I want to make them fall, but not like this, do you get that?"

The blonde opened his umbrella, blasé, the gesture like a rebuke, while rain drenched Harry's hair, making it stick to his face in a sad curtain. The brunet's voice kept low but determined.

"It doesn't change anything between me and you."

He looked at Draco, his eyes blinking under the droplets, but the blonde showed no emotion. Harry pronounced his name, "Draco", putting in all his desire, willing it to reach him but the call lost itself in the rain when Draco brutally rejected his hand. Dumbstruck, Harry looked as the man he loved joined the ballet of black umbrellas making their way out. The blonde stopped when he reached Sandro further away, while Pansy stayed behind with Harry, a pained expression on her face.

Harry couldn't believe this was the way their encounter would end. He was still dazed when two black cars with smoked windows barged in to the place and skidded to a halt in front of the crowd. The next moment, the Vanderberghs and their followers pulled out their guns.

A few seconds only, just time enough to turn his head. The time to see Draco as surprised as him in the front. The time to hear Pansy and other people shout out in fright. The time to hear Sammy nearby breath out, "Fuck, not now!" And the gunfire rained down.

Everything flashed by before Harry's eyes. The guests who had come armed reacted straight away, dropping their umbrellas to the ground. When the Vanderberghs started shooting into the masses, MacNair and his guys had their guns already out. People crouched down to avoid the cross fire, the umbrellas flying around, and everyone ended up on the ground. Harry turned to Pansy who was petrified, shakily standing next to him. In a flash, he threw himself at her and pushed her down, covering her protectively with his body.

Men and women were shouting. Bullets kept raining. In front of the doors, a stunned Harry half rose to try and find Draco. He kept looking around frantically, dreading the worse, but relief came when he caught sight Sandro and the blonde further to the side. They had ducked behind one of the facade's columns to take cover. Draco's stare turned to the huge doors. Harry didn't have the time to see if his look was destined for him: a detonation exploded behind him a second before the crowd's movement pushed him down onto the shiny cobblestone. He could hear nothing but a piercing whistling that bore into his head…

The pain was such he couldn't open his eyes, feeling people bumping into him and shoes almost walking over him. Flat on the paving, he curled up on himself and moaned, his arms covering his head. The deafening sound didn't weaken and paralysed him on the spot.

Were they still shooting?

He felt arms on him, touching him, pulling at him. He pushed them away defensively but a hand took his and it seemed alright. Friendly. He managed to half-open his eyes and caught sight of a bloodied body nearby, the dead eyes fixed on him. He turned his head away in horror and saw a sea of black. All these sombre suits and the screaming faces, all tears and rain, but he couldn't hear them. It looked like a silent film and the impression was terrifying. The internal whistling was like a broken alarm warning him of danger, again and again, as if he was about to explode, and that chaos around him with its false airs of mime… It was dreadful.

Then the foreign hands were on his neck, shaking him. Eyes still scrunched up, he put his head down on the paving and lifted his eyes with a hallucinating air. Draco. It was Draco's hand on him. He looked at the blonde's lips moving but couldn't understand.

"I can't hear anything!" he shouted. "It bloody hurts."

He wondered a moment if he had really spoken, and if so, if he had been intelligible. He had only felt his breath and the vibrations in his vocal cords. He moaned with pain, his hand on his hurt ear. It was warm and damp. Draco grabbed his wrist and Harry looked at his palm: it was covered in blood, the red liquid soon washed away by the rain. Draco said something, his face tense. Harry was so lost, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

Where was Pansy?

And Sammy?

Was MacNair alive? Was he nearby?

Who had been hit?

_Fuck, that noise…_

"Is everyone safe?" he shouted despite the pain and the fact that he couldn't hear his own voice. "Is everyone safe?" he repeated.

It was useless, he couldn't tell if someone answered him or not. It felt like his head was in a vice and his eyes rolled back. He saw the sky above, rain pouring like strings, the turret crosses high in the sky, the stone angels climbing up the church towers ascending the 'stairway to heaven' as though they wanted to escape the violent spectacle below. Someone helped him to sitting but he had lost all his bearings and was unable to get up.

_Greyback? Yes, he was there, in the front. _

Hands were searching him all over. What was going on? It was as though someone had whirled him around in all senses. He couldn't seem to take in the whole of the situation.

His head turned to find the anxious eyes of his blond angel again.

_Ah yes, Draco._

He had barely looked at him that he felt himself lifted up, something weighing down on his stomach. His breath was cut, then something scratched his face. His face contorted, the whistling louder than ever, then found himself tipped up, blood pounding in his head, reviving the pain. He could only see feet. Backward feet.

_What's going on?_

He tried to pry himself away from whoever manipulated him but the body against him shifted and moved. In his mobile field of vision, a tiny corpse, a woman crying over it, his mouth opened in a heart-wrenching grimace. People collapsed on the floor. Then the movement stopped. He moaned, his red hand dangling pathetically.

Then a pair of Richelieu shoes appeared beyond his eyes. MacNair's favourite style. A hand turned his head, the other caressing his cheek: he barely felt them, engrossed in his pain, his eyes unable to fix themselves. The hands disappeared, seconds went by, then the shoes walked off. Again, he was tipped around and closed his eyes, nauseous.

A moment later, he was seated, his head against a cold and hard surface. He finally opened his eyes wide. A car window. People were running around in a frenzy on the other side of the rain covered windscreen. Then on the right, he saw MacNair, standing straight in the middle of the scene, authoritarian and imposing, seemingly shouting at his men to get in their cars. The moment Harry felt the engine start, MacNair's stare landed on his window, then directly through his tired eyes. A strange moment passed during which MacNair's face fell, then the man shook himself of his thought and continued ordering around.

The car drove away. A small hand touched his face. He slowly turned his head, recognizing Peter's nape in the front seat, Draco to his side. The blonde turned his head toward him. He looked at him without a word, only his reassuring smile. Harry's tour of the horizon ended on the form of Pansy next to him. She was looking at him with quivering lips. Perhaps she was trying to tell him something? No, it was only the emotion.

On the back seat, Harry let calm settle in. If only this whistling would stop. He could've ripped his head off... When he lowered his eyes, he saw a trickle of blood on his shirt. He put his hand back to his ear. The gunfire must have exploded his eardrum. He took Pansy's hand to reassure her with an "I'm fine, I'm fine…" experiencing the odd impression he was talking into the void like in a dream. _Can you hear me?_

The car was rolling full speed on the sloping road. A glance out the window and Harry saw two of the League's cars chasing the snipers far ahead. But Peter turned the wheel in the opposite direction. Draco grabbed his phone and the next moment was gesturing wildly. Harry wished he knew what was going on. The Vanderberghs had attacked rashly. Admittedly, the occasion had been tempting with the majority of MacNair's associates gathered there, but they had lacked preparation. It was an amateur move. He wouldn't bet much on their survival chances. MacNair would not let them escape.

They drove like that for a few more minutes when they arrived in a small clinic. Draco jumped out and ran into the building. He came back a few minutes later and opened the car's door for Harry. The latter managed to get to his feet with Pansy's support behind him. Draco saw him wavering and grabbed hold of his waist to help him walk. This new closeness didn't come in the best circumstances, but it cheered Harry nonetheless.

Inside, Harry was welcomed by a young woman. The way she talked and looked at Draco was more than cordial. It was obvious the two knew each other. The woman came back and led Harry to a pastel-toned room. Two blue seats in faux leather, an elevated bed with mint green sheets. The woman left briefly and Harry sat patiently on the bed. Pansy observed each of his movements with worry, so he smiled at her the best he could but he was clearly in distress. Draco was perceptive enough to take her aside. He spoke to her closely while the girl shook her head stubbornly. The discussion didn't last long but Pansy seemed calmer at the end of it. She turned toward Harry and padded to his bed. Harry tilted his head tiredly, unable to move further. He knew she cared and it warmed his heart. She took a long look at him then put a kiss on his cheek before leaving the room.

Draco stayed put but he seemed unable to meet Harry's eyes. He just kept moving around the room nervously. Why did he worry so? He wasn't responsible. It was nothing… But it was touching to see him so obviously concerned after the cold treatment he had given him. The door opened and the woman came back. She said something to Draco with an annoyed air and the blonde stilled a moment. He walked toward Harry, caressed the brunet's hair and slowly articulated, "You're gonna be alright, okay?" then he pointed out the door. "I'll be back." Harry had deciphered his words accurately and nodded.

It was good to have him there.

Harry had finally seen the extent of the damage. His ear had been partially burned by the gunpowder but fortunately it was superficial. The force of the detonation and the powder residue had ripped his eardrum. He couldn't avoid surgical intervention. The operation had been arranged for the next morning. Draco had rejoined Harry after the doctor's departure and stayed by his bed in silence. How ironic. Now that they were finally able to talk without any interference, Harry couldn't hear Draco. Fate had never been clement to them but it had never stopped them. It was the proof of the strength of their bond.

_Bring it on all you want, you won't get us. _

Harry was too tired to even try to speak anyway. Each time he shut his eyes, the unrelenting sound seemed to amplify, so he struggled to keep awake, wanting to rest his eyes on Draco's face above him. His presence soothed him. Draco stayed at his bedside until Harry finally closed his eyes. Harry fell asleep hoping the truce would still stand in the morning.

The surgery had gone as well as could be expected. They had removed a part of Harry's ear cartilage to implant it into his ear to close the eardrum. He had a big scar behind his ear and a smaller one in the front. The whole was covered with cotton wool and a bulky compress. At his first look in the mirror, Harry snorted: with this giant bandage, he looked like he had cut off his own ear!

Draco had not reappeared since the previous night. Harry strived to be unaffected by this new departure, but his heart seemed to disagree with him. He pressed a button to raise the mechanical bed's pillows and made a face. He could still hear the whistling in his head, but its intensity had lessened considerably. He couldn't hear much from his right ear at the moment, but the other compensated. The sound ambiance felt woolly with all this interference in his head.

In that depressing institutional pastel room, Harry was dying to get out. He wanted to know what had happened. Had the Elders made it? How many people had found death? Was Draco still around?

The door opened like an answer to his demands and Harry felt a smile forming in the corner of his lips. A smile which faded quickly. It wasn't Draco standing in front of him but MacNair. Harry hid his disappointment with a small "Hello" then MacNair rushed to his side and kissed him urgently, pulling him toward him in a hug. The immediate assault was unpleasant. Harry was tired and would have appreciated a softer touch.

Draco's touch.

MacNair smoothed Harry's hair down again and again. "I was worried sick, but the nurse told me you were fine now. But don't worry, I took care of the Vanderberghs. They won't bother anyone from where they are now!"

Harry didn't need to hear that. Why was it all about victory? Draco and MacNair always made it look like a damn war. Hadn't they seen enough of it already? Harry wasn't interested in who had won. There were more important matters.

Harry voiced his question, "Tell me who got hit? I saw a hurt child there? Is he…. Is he dead? "

"Our losses were minor. It is all for the best."

Harry read between the lines. Minor losses, probably the families and the contingent. The stronger soldiers were still up and the Vanderberghs were finally out of the picture. MacNair's idea of a win. Harry snorted at the man's outrageous relief. How could he be so indifferent to the massacre? It was so simple for them. No emotion. No regret. No pain. A simple game. Maybe it was the solution… Harry only wished he knew how to play.

"I should have been more cautious," MacNair kept on. "It's my own fault. But I made arrangements. I advanced the day of our departure to the 16th."

"The 16th?" Harry repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, only ten days to go and we'll be far away, to a better life."

Harry shuddered. Draco wouldn't come around at such short notice. He was too stubborn for that... And even if he did, it was too late now. Their plans had crashed and burned. No one would stop MacNair now. So that was how it would end. He was going to leave with this man and everyone would be safe.

It was all for the best.

Yes, all for the best…

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**May 10, 2005**

Harry had made an appointment with his usual doctor, an unscrupulous man close to the League who gave them any prescriptions they needed. A check-up so soon after his last medical visit was unnecessary but Harry had shared his concern about the thorough healing of his ear and, wishing to cut his little patient's anxiety, MacNair had let him go without question. He would be escorted by Peter. It was a stipulation Harry had expected. Everything was planned.

The consultation had gone quickly. Harry, a vivid purplish scar behind his ear and on the cartilage, had shown no particular problem. It was too soon to make a real prognosis. Harry could faintly hear from his right ear and the tinnitus still bothered him. The whistling was unpleasant but tolerable. His auditory range was supposed to come back with time. A few pills to kill his headaches and he was gone.

Harry hurried along the pavement. He was already late for his rendezvous at the chemists where he was supposed to leave his report. He had noted all the details he could about the Bath Abbey attack and his imminent move with MacNair. That sudden change of location would complicate matters for sure but Harry had no illusions. He was certain McCarthy wouldn't interfere with MacNair's plans, for it would compromise the mission. So, as always, Harry had to wait and let McCarthy decide the drill.

Harry entered the chemist and was assaulted by a plethora of meticulously coiffured women standing at their stations behind the well stocked beauty counters. He walked past a display of baby toys, deftly sidestepping an excited toddler and made his way through the aisles of neatly organised health products to the back of the store. With prescription and report in pocket, he joined the waiting line at the pharmacy. Two employees were at the tills: a middle-aged woman with a sullen face and an older man with a chiselled profile and thick glasses sliding down his nose. A couple walked out of line as Harry arrived so there were only two other customers left, one in front of each till: the old woman on the left held out her prescription to the woman pharmacist and started heaping endless questions concerning her treatment while the other client took out his wallet to pay.

As soon as the bespectacled pharmacist took notice of Harry, his expression changed. His eyes shimmered and his whole body stiffened. Harry frowned, intrigued by his attitude. Once the customer before him walked away, the pharmacist motioned for Harry to come around the counter. At first untrusting, Harry stayed put and peered at him: he was only supposed to leave him his note. What was McCarthy up to now? Harry eventually moved past the counter to join the man. Without explanation, the latter escorted him to a narrow passageway bordered by dozens of small drawers. It led to what looked like the stockroom, a small white area with walls covered in shelves full of meds.

When Harry entered a hand fell on his neck and pulled him forward. Breath cut short, he found himself face to face with a furious McCarthy.

"Little fucker, you think you can hide things from me and get away with it?" the man spat before Harry had time to recover from the shock.

_Oh no,_ _please, not that._

Harry opted for the innocent act. "What are you talking about? I told you everything!"

McCarthy leaned closer to Harry, invading his personal space. So close that Harry struggled not to recoil. The man's face was now right in front of him, and Harry had to lift his head to lock eyes. It was a tense moment. Harry was used to McCarthy's intimidation tactics but each time he was faced with him, it was with renewed terror. Maybe it was the unpredictability of the man, or the tide of insanity hovering in his eyes… McCarthy suddenly moved his head forward, his skin brushing the brunet's cheek. Harry repressed a shudder and kept his ground, his body straight as an arrow while McCarthy played with his nerves, pressing himself closer, taking his time. Harry felt a small breath of air on his injured ear and immediately understood that McCarthy was whispering something into the damaged shell. He couldn't hear anything and was about to tell as much, when McCarthy straightened up and Harry met his sadistic grin. The son of a bitch had done it on purpose and Harry wouldn't dare imagine what words the man had oozed into his ear.

McCarthy smiled and adopted a mocking tone, "So it's true, you're really deaf and dumb now. Pathetic!" He chuckled. "So I'm gonna repeat it again to make sure you hear me this time." He articulated loudly as if Harry was retarded. "Do – you – think – you – can – fool- me?"

Harry's heart was beating hard now and his jaw tightened. He would not give in.

McCarthy smiled, his eyes piercing and cruel. "The Bath Abbey shootout. Did you really think it would go unnoticed? People are talking, images are already circulating all over the net. I found some very interesting shots. One face in particular."

Alarm. The worst scenario possible was happening right here.

"So when did you plan on telling me your fiancé had returned from the dead?"

Harry quickly envisioned the consequences of this new development. Draco was in danger. McCarthy was going to strike again, and this time he would not miss his target.

Harry shook his head and tried to move away from McCarthy but the latter gripped his nape, preventing his escape.

"I was as surprised as you!" Harry mumbled. "He was… He reappeared that day, I didn't even have the chance to talk to him! He just came and went. I don't know what happened…"

McCarthy's stare was strong and menacing. He was like an intimidating android, cold and determined, so used to bending others to his will. Whenever Harry faced the man, he felt stripped to the bone, at his complete mercy. Suddenly, McCarthy let go of him and took a step back. His expression morphed from severe to serene and this sudden change didn't reassure Harry in the least. The man was playing with him as usual, and Harry hated his cunning display.

"Ok," he said, his lips twisted into a parody of a smile. "Then I suppose you stated his return in your report."

Harry blinked, visualising the note in his pocket. Oh how he wished he could make it disappear with a wave of his hand. A miserable piece of paper.

McCarthy grinned victoriously then outstretched his arm and opened his palm. He was waiting, eyes riveted on Harry's blank face. The latter didn't react and McCarthy, never a patient man, wasted no more time: he gripped Harry's shirt, pulled him forward and searched his pocket himself. He was rough and Harry struggled but it was already done. The piece of paper was in McCarthy's hand.

The man unfolded it and read.

"A trip with your new pimp? How sweet! What does your fiancé say about that?" He mocked. Then he lifted a brow, turned the paper over and stared at it with false incomprehension. "That's strange, I don't see anything about our dear Draco on here."

Harry stayed stoical and held his stare, emotionless. There was nothing to do about it. Might as well let the hammer fall.

A hard cold look settled back on McCarthy's face, his black eyes so dark he seemed possessed by some evil spirit. He stepped closer and before Harry understood his intentions, the man grabbed his ear hard. The pain was immediate, the appendage was still fragile. Harry cried out with a grimace and leaned toward McCarthy to lessen the pull. The other hissed between his teeth strong enough for Harry to hear the words,

"I could rip it off here and now. Come on, test me…" Ready to act, he yelled, "TEST ME!"

Harry trembled in front of the mad man: he knew he was capable of anything. He kept quite. The smallest trifle could set the man off.

"You still don't get it, do you? I'm the boss here, I'm the one who decides your fate. One order from me and you and your pals die," McCarthy continued, his fingers pressing tight against the ear's rosy skin. "Don't even think about double-crossing me. You would lose at this game."

He ran a nail behind Harry's ear and cruelly dug into the tender scar, reopening the flesh that started bleeding under his finger. Harry let out a tearing cry. His face was tense and pale and he gritted his teeth tight to keep his mouth shut. McCarthy's distorted face was monstrous and he looked ready to kill. As crazy as it was, Harry could tell the man was trying to rein his temper in.

Indeed, a second later, he released his grip. A small cry left Harry's lips. His hands were shaking and blood was spreading down his neck in thin lines like a cobweb but he forced himself not to touch his ear or move. He just wanted to end it and quick.

McCarthy breathed loudly through his nose and turned his head away a moment before facing Harry again.

"Ok, here's the deal, you have until Friday to tell me where he's hiding," he said in a low voice. "So pull your shit together, 'cause if I don't hear from you by Friday midnight, I'll give a call to your little friends in the League. I'm not sure MacNair will appreciate finding out you've been working for me all this time."

Harry's stare turned ferocious. McCarthy wouldn't dare! He would go as far as sabotaging himself, losing his only contact inside?

Sensing his incredulousness, McCarthy added, "You think I'll hesitate giving you up… I already did it once, I'll do it again."

It took a few seconds before the words sank in. Harry staggered back, eyes wide open, gauging McCarthy and taking full appreciation of his perfidy.

"It was you who…Lucius…" he let out in a breath.

"It was real child's play," the man admitted as if it was obvious. "It only took a few compromising documents, a mail sent to the Rivers' siege and it was done. How do you think we showed up at the right time? I've watched the Malfoys long enough to know how they work. Lucius was an egomaniac, he always liked dramatic moves. I expected him to confront you and make a show out of it. And I guessed right. It wasn't very careful of him, bringing all his cortege with him and lowering his guard like that."

If Harry had any doubts left about his importance in the man's grand scheme, they had crashed and burned at that very moment.

"Yes, I'm ready to sacrifice you," McCarthy declared. "You see, I wouldn't play the smart arse if I were you."

An intent look and these words, definitive,

"I want Draco Malfoy's head and you're the one who'll give it to me."

Harry was stunned but there was no more hesitation in his mind. No questions. He knew what was left for him to do.

McCarthy concluded with a "You can go now."

He gave Harry a baleful look and threw a small package at him. "And don't forget your meds, you need to take care of yourself…" he said, sarcasm dripping.

Harry closed his hands on the paper bag, silent and still, waiting for the end of the act. McCarthy turned and pulled something out of a drawer. His hand suddenly flew to Harry's ear and the brunet winced immediately. But it was only cotton wool.

"And clean up this mess, will you," the man said, pressing the soft ball against the brunet's ear "you look a right state".

Harry put his hand against his ear to relieve him of the cotton ball with a wary look.

McCarthy smiled. "Good boy."

Harry stepped back slowly first, closing one fist on the paper bag and his other hand on the cotton wool, then left the backroom as fast as he could to escape this nightmare. But McCarthy's shout resounded behind him like the voice of destiny.

"Don't forget, Friday, midnight."

Harry walked on, his heart thumping in his ear.

When he reached the pavement, his mind was still fogged by the urgency of the situation. Blind to the passers-by and the voices all around, he was standing still, eyes blinking in emptiness, weighing his options.

Give Draco away? Never! McCarthy didn't realize the depth of his feelings for the blonde. Well, he would soon find out… Harry could lie, give false information…But McCarthy wouldn't fall for it. His men would discover the treachery and then he would follow through with his threats and MacNair would make short work of him.

What if he left? What if he fled with Draco like he'd always dreamed of?

The ray of hope put a small smile on his face, but reality had a bad habit of crushing his dreams and this was no exception. Leaving with Draco would put them in even worse a situation. MacNair, the Elders and McCarthy would all set off in their pursuit. The chase would be on.

Yes, but at least they would pre-empt McCarthy and it would give them a considerable advantage. There was no alternative anyway.

Harry was jerked out of his thoughts when an old hunchbacked man bumped into him. The man grumbled and Harry muttered a few excuses before heading back to the car parked further down the street. Peter was quietly reading his newspaper in the vehicle. When he saw Harry approaching, he promptly folded the paper and put it away.

Harry opened the door himself and stilled a second, his hand resting on the car roof and his eyes closed. When he reopened them, Peter was opposite him on the other side of the car, worry marring his features.

"You alright? What happened to you?"

Harry lowered his hand and looked at the bloodied cotton with a void expression.

"Nothing…" he answered. "Let's go."

A deep breath and he entered the car which then sped off.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

**May 13, 2005**

Friday, late morning.

Things didn't look very promising.

Due to their imminent departure for Brussels, MacNair had demanded Harry be fully invested in the preparations, and thus hadn't left him a moment alone. It was imperative Harry talk to Draco to inform him about McCarthy and decide their next move. The problem was he had no number, no address, nothing to contact him. They had been reckless. Harry had trusted Draco to stay around and keep an eye on him, just like he had promised, but now he was all alone. Again.

In the living-room, MacNair was showing and relating the photos of their new place but his voice seemed muted. Harry was too engrossed in his internal struggle to concentrate on the man's words. He was absently looking at the table, the Weasleys' dented compass clasped in his hand. He made it turn and turn between his fingers as if it was helping him with his thinking.

Unfortunately, there weren't a hundred ways to fix this_._ His situation was becoming desperate. If it came to it, he would have to leave alone.

After the Bath debacle, MacNair had organised a crisis meeting with all the clans he was linked to, in order to solidify their alliance and talk about the latent conflicts. MacNair had told Harry it was not his place and had spared him the meeting. He would therefore be left alone in the apartment.

It was the opportunity he was looking for.

Ten minutes after the door closed behind MacNair and his gang, Harry attempted a haphazard exit. The moment he was out, he scanned the street left and right, scrutinising the people passing by, looking for a familiar car, someone watching him.

His search was fruitless.

He walked down the street and turned at the corner. There, he rapidly found a cab and gave him the address of the place Draco had once taken him. His usual hideout. There was still a chance. The car pulled over and Harry ran out toward the building's front door. He stared at the entry phone with dreadful trepidation, his eyes sweeping up and down the board. Apartment 9. He pressed the key. Once, twice, thrice… expecting a saturated voice but there was no answer, nothing but him waiting in front of this damn machine. He rang again and looked behind the glass door.

"Answer please… Answer!" he grumbled.

He ran a hand through his hair and turned to the cab waiting for him on the pavement, holding up his hand and yelling for the driver to wait another minute. Then out of frustration, he pushed every key on the board. There had to be someone up there. Seconds passed and Harry tiredly put both his hands against the wall, his forehead falling defeated against the intercom speaker.

"Who is it?" A feminine voice accompanied by crackling noises suddenly asked.

Harry's head jerked up. "Hum, I… I forgot my keys," he stuttered. "Could you open for me please?"

"Who are you?"

Harry wet his lips and exhaled tiredly. He couldn't very well give Draco's name, so he simply said, "I'm Harry."

A silence, then a sharp answer. "I don't know you."

"I'm in apartment 9. I'm…"

The high-pitched voice didn't let him finish.

"I saw dodgy people coming in and out of that apartment," the woman pedantically retorted. "You'd better leave."

The final crackle then the definitive sound of the handset.

Harry whirled around dejectedly, rushed to the cab and jumped inside.

"To Westfield Shopping Centre."

The waiting again. With the hope of a new miracle.

Minutes went by, an hour, and still nothing. Harry was now seated on a bench, his head between his hands. Families laughing around him, people walking by and he was there, a sad figure in the middle of the Centre, his life slipping through his fingers.

Draco wouldn't come anymore. It was too late. He had to think about himself now. If he stayed, McCarthy would turn him in. If he ran away, McCarthy's call or not, MacNair would never leave him alone, he would chase him until the end of the world. One way or another, Harry was screwed. Better be a fugitive than wait for his fate to be decided.

Harry rose, his steps heavy. He could take a taxi now and head to the nearest train station. From this instant on, his future was like a blank white page, scary and empty. But at least, he would write the page himself. No more blackmail, no more missions. The primary goal: leave as far away as he could. He had until MacNair's return before the situation escalated, and until midnight until the dogs were let out.

Harry had just the time to go back to the apartment to get his passport and some money.

His steps slowed down when he arrived in his street: Peter's car was parked in front of the building. If Peter was already back, it meant something had happened. Harry noticed Peter inside and tapped against the window. The poor man started before opening the electric window. Harry lowered his head and looked at him, barely concealing his nervousness.

Peter smiled when he recognised him. "Hey, Harry!" he greeted him good-naturedly.

"Is there a problem?" Harry asked, praying for a reassuring answer.

"No, Mr MacNair sent me back an hour ago so you wouldn't stay alone. Did you need to go somewhere?"

Harry smiled for good measure. "No, it's alright, I just went for a walk. I'll go inside now."

The man shrugged. "Ok, I'm here if you need anything."

Harry nodded and turned away. He would have to find an excuse to leave Peter's watch on his way out. He didn't worry much though, Peter had never been any trouble. Who knew? Maybe the man would even help him get away if he had the chance.

When Harry entered the empty apartment, the adrenaline rushed through his body and there was a strange shift in the room. The place suddenly looked different, unknown. It seemed already far from him. The silence was not as comforting as it should, but threatening... and this feeling of being in a fishbowl due to his impaired ear added to his nervousness.

Standing in the hall, he took a look around to make sure the way was clear. It was stupid, everyone had left, but he felt compelled to stay vigilant. He shook off his anxiety and entered the living-room. He looked through the kitchen glass door. No one hidden there either of course. He turned and headed to MacNair's study with cautious step. Feeling suddenly stupid about it, he hurried his pace.

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiiing!_

The phone downstairs. His heart jumped in his chest.

What if the meeting had been cut short…? What if they came back unexpectedly? A setback?

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiii...!_

The answering machine picked up and Harry held his breath… for nothing. The person had hung up. No message. But the feeling of urgency intensified and Harry rushed inside MacNair's study. The man had kept their passports and visas in one of his desk drawers. He crossed the threshold with careful steps, as if trespassing in forbidden territory, then dashed toward the desk. He opened the first drawer and fumbled through the different papers inside, his gestures hurried and brusque, crumpling the documents around. Time was ticking by.

It wasn't the right one.

Second drawer, same panic.

It was absurd.

"Calm down, you've got time," he whispered to himself.

Harry stilled his movements and controlled his breathing before resuming his search. He found the passport in a few seconds and opened it, revealing the photo of his placid face inside. There were other papers in his name inside a small folder. He took it all and closed the drawer.

Now the shelves. Harry knew where to look. MacNair had a box with cash hidden among his accountancy files, for unexpected expenses. Harry didn't pocket the entirety of it. He had no intention of taking more than necessary.

Something was still missing.

Harry left the room and took the stairs up to his bedroom. He entered, crouched down next to his bed and slipped his hand under the mattress, but he couldn't feel the necklace links beneath his fingers. He plunged his arm farther in but couldn't find it. Where was it? Harry lifted the side of the mattress completely. He looked at the bed base stunned. There was nothing.

"Is this what you're looking for?"

Harry felt his blood run cold and dropped the mattress. He turned slowly, delaying the revelation, as if it would make the man vanish. But no, MacNair was there, in the doorway, the golden chain dangling from his fingers, a sudden materialization of his nightmare.

Harry was incapable of getting a sound out. Why? Why was he here? It couldn't be a simple jealous fit, it made no sense.

The man showed no animosity. He was just standing there, blocking the door. Harry didn't risk a reaction and returned his stare, keeping his own expression neutral. MacNair himself looked unusually composed. His eyes were blank.

Something was amiss, and Harry didn't like it one bit. It was a terrible feeling. MacNair knew something, but what exactly? To have his answer, he could do nothing but wait for the latter to speak up. His wish was granted a moment later.

"It's very pretty but I don't recall giving it to you," he said softly. "No, it doesn't look familiar at all."

He stepped closer to Harry with a leisured pace and turned slowly around the brunet now paralyzed with fear. It was his instincts telling him things were about to turn ugly, the air around the room turning sour.

"I thought we had no secrets from each other. Wasn't that what you promised me Harry? That you would stand by my side?"

Harry swallowed, his hands trembling slightly. It was the final confrontation, wasn't it? MacNair was moving so close to him, his head hovering over him in a dangerous spiral, the mere brush or breath threatening. Harry's body was completely stiff, waiting for the outburst. It was unavoidable.

"And here today, I discover not one but two betrayals. From you."

MacNair moved directly behind Harry and grabbed his jaw all of a sudden, his thick hand wrapping around his chin and his fingers digging into on his cheeks.

"I knew you'd cling to that prick," he spat, "but in addition you've been spying on me?"

_He hadn't_!

That bastard McCarthy hadn't waited!

What had he expected, McCarthy was not a man of his word. Harry cursed himself for he should have run away days ago, when there was still time.

MacNair squeezed harder and Harry's face contorted in pain. He tried to elbow the man and scratch his hands but before he could do any damage, the other let go of him. Harry jerked away and caught himself against the wall next to the open door. The man was behind him, silent.

Harry didn't wait for his next move. He lifted his eyes to the exit and threw himself into the corridor, but he had barely reached the stairs when he felt an arm closing around his ribcage. He found himself hurled back against MacNair's wide torso, his arms soon pinned against his sides, imprisoned by his attacker's strong arms. The man lifted him up and stepped back so Harry's tiptoes were scrapping on the floor while he struggled to break free. He writhed and kicked the air with his feet but the man's hold seemed unbreakable and the pressure on his chest rendered his breathing more and more ragged.

"Come on, come on... Calm down, love," MacNair said, his voice deceptively calm.

A few more steps and they were back inside the bedroom. Harry tried to resist MacNair, making himself a dead weight to slow him down, the side of his shoes squeaking on the parquet. His strength rapidly dwindled however, and MacNair dragged him along with more ease. He finally stopped and whispered, "That's it… That's it… don't struggle."

Harry was breathing hard against the man, his eyes filled with fear. He could have cried he felt so helpless. Then MacNair threw him on the bed and joined him, pinning his arms with his hands and straddling him to block his legs. Harry was completely trapped. MacNair freed his left arm and searched inside his pocket. He took out several long wire cords and held them between his teeth while trying to immobilize Harry's free arm which was flailing around in a vain attempt to hurt him. MacNair brutally caught his hand and tied it with one of the cables. He then grabbed the other one and pulled both the brunet's hand over his head.

"No! Stop! Hm…"

MacNair wound the wire around the other hand and over the bed bars. Harry shouted in a moment of rage, his torso rising from the bed, and twisted his hands about. He had to get off this bed! But MacNair made a quick job of the bonds. He looked at his work with a satisfied groan. Harry was at his mercy. MacNair slid his arm under Harry's shirt, half-revealing the brunet's tense stomach, and ran his hand over the trembling skin.

"What a waste…" he whispered, "Why did you have to do that?"

He caressed Harry and moved his arm farther up, lifting Harry's t-shirt to his neck. The latter closed his eyes, doing his best not to lose it. MacNair glanced at his face and gripped his chin, efficiently forcing him to open his eyes.

"I had plans for us, you know? I thought you'd stay with me till the end, I really believed it," he declared, nodding his head ostensibly.

Harry looked at him with guarded eyes, anticipating what was to come.

"You never cared, did you? You just followed orders." MacNair brushed Harry's cheek and stroke it, a small smile on his lips. "Have you reserved the same fate for Draco? Does he know who you really are?"

Harry peered at him, his large green eyes full of hatred. He had no right to talk about him.

"Or did you screw him up like me? You lured him to your bed to give him away too?"

"Shut up! You don't know a fucking thing!" Harry shouted.

MacNair's eyes turned red. His hand flew to Harry's lips and squashed his mouth. "I bet you enjoyed having us both at your feet!" he yelled with growing fury. He pressed his hand against Harry's mouth with so much force it seemed he was trying to smother him. MacNair's hand was covering half of the brunet's face, green wide eyes pinned to his.

"Yeah, you fucked us up good!"

A last push and he removed his hand from the brunet's face.

After a full intake of air and a few coughs, Harry had to let it out.

"I love him!" he yelled with all his strength.

That shut MacNair up. The man looked at his former lover. Harry's chest was rising and falling hard, the skin around his mouth red bruised from the violent pressure.

"You never wanted me," the man stated in a lifeless voice.

"How could I? I told you, I love him!"

MacNair seemed to have closed off, disconnected. He smoothed down Harry's hair tenderly and spoke with a detached voice.

"I used to think muggles were useless, stupid creatures. But there are a few things I learnt to appreciate. Their ingenuity for instance. For they weren't blessed with magic, they had to come up with these surprising inventions…"

Harry frowned, unsettled by the digression.

"Guns, explosives… new substances."

Then MacNair straightened up and pulled a cloth out of his inside pocket. He opened it to reveal a syringe already filled. Harry knew what was awaiting him. He looked up at the man and shook his head, his mouth trembling violently.

"No, no!" he let out in panic, fighting against his bonds.

If MacNair wanted names, if he wanted to know what he had given away, he would gladly confess.

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," he offered. "Please, I'll tell you everything."

MacNair peered at him with a cocked brow.

"I don't care what you know. I'm aware of the division, McCarthy and his personal war. And from what I heard, I'm not the real target here… and I can't wait to see Draco between their hands."

Harry gaped. The man had no questions, no demands.

"No, all I want is you. Having you at my mercy, just like this."

Harry released a shaky breath, his stunning eyes filled with tears of rage. He didn't want to be anyone's toy anymore.

"No, Walden, don't do this…"

MacNair caressed his face and soothed, "Shhhh… it won't even hurt."

He flicked off the cap protecting the sharp blade. Holding out the syringe he pushed the plunger down so a small jet spurted out of the needle.

"Walden please, don't do this to me…" Harry pleaded, staring deep into his eyes.

But MacNair was not listening.

"You'll be mine, no one else's. You'll beg me for your hit."

Harry freaked out completely. His heart seemed to want to escape from his chest.

"Why would you want that?" he yelled. "I'll be a dead man walking!"

"It's enough for me," MacNair said, grabbing Harry's arm to stretch it and compress the veins. "It'll be fine. You'll quickly regain the sensations."

MacNair, examining the bulging vein, brought the syringe to his arm and Harry thrashed around, but his moves were restrained by the ligatures and MacNair's body on top of him. It was an impossible task: he was stuck. His head fell with defeat when the needle pierced his skin.

Then a noise reached his ear and MacNair turned his head.

"You'd better let him go if you don't want me to blow your brains out."

Harry opened his eyes in an instant. MacNair should have been deterred by the unexpected threat, but a second later, he was chuckling darkly, his fingers still on the plunger. Harry observed the man, and the crazy expression on his face chilled him to the bone.

"Shoot then." MacNair said in a light tone. "But don't miss and be quick, 'cause if the syringe releases all its contents, it's a guaranteed overdose. Do you really want to risk it?"

MacNair slowly turned to face Draco completely, Harry's eyes following in the same direction. The blonde was standing at the foot of the bed, his gun pointed toward MacNair's head. His posture was solid but there was a tension in his jaw. Would he give it a gamble in spite of the danger? Harry was prepared for all eventualities.

MacNair's voice rose, dangerous and low. "You won't take him away from me. Not while I'm alive.

He pushed the syringe against Harry's arm, making the brunet cringe.

"Put your gun down."

Draco's fingers tightened and un-tightened on the gun. He was nervous, but his voice gave nothing away. "Put the syringe down first."

MacNair chuckled again. "It's my safe-ticket. You shoot me, you kill Harry. But if you leave, everyone will be safe. I promise."

Draco turned his eyes to Harry who gave him a lost look.

"I'd rather kill him than let him go with you. I'm not joking, so drop your gun. Now!"

The situation was inextricable. But Draco could save himself and leave. Harry nodded his head, his eyes fixed on his lover and his mouth twisting with emotion. Everything would be alright.

The blonde seemed to realize he had no choice and slowly lowered his gun.

"Drop it and push it toward me," MacNair barked.

Draco complied. He dropped the gun and with his hand slid it toward the man, the gun bumping into his shoe.

MacNair smiled.

"You made the right decision," he said.

Draco glanced at Harry again, his face pained. He took a step back, then another one, the brunet could visualise his escape through the window.

MacNair lowered himself to pick up the gun, his eyes pinned to the blonde. Weapon in hand, almost beaming now, he turned to Harry. A flash of colour, the shock: Harry had taken advantage of his position to give him a spectacular headbutt. The blow stunned MacNair momentarily and his fingers released the syringe though the tip stayed planted in Harry's arm. As the brunet twisted to pull himself up, Draco jumped on the man and grabbed his wrist to make him drop the gun. But MacNair was not so easy to disarm. He shifted from Harry and pushed Draco away. The blonde was now unprotected on the floor.

An easy kill.

MacNair lifted his hand to shoot. Harry saw this, his eyes widened, and free from the man's weight, he pushed hard with his feet and kicked the man's back, making him fall to the floor. The gun slid under the bed, but MacNair immediately crawled after and made a grab for it. Too slow though. Draco was already in action, and with his feet, dislodged the gum and sent it flying to the other end of the room. MacNair growled and hit Draco full in the face.

On the bed, Harry pulled the syringe out of his arm using his mouth, the needle left only a drop of blood on his skin. Contorting himself and pushing his body to its limits, he reached his bonds and with his teeth, pulled and chewed like a desperate man, his eyes glancing now and then toward the two men wrestling next to him.

The fight was going on and no winner stood out, legs kicking, hands pushing and hitting. It was then that Draco spotted a wire cord lying on the floor. He grasped it with one hand and managed to pass it over the other brute's head before the man could turn around. He pulled on it hard, MacNair's head jerking backwards in an ugly grimace. The wire scored an indented line into the thick neck of his enemy. But the man was fierce and struggled with spite. Draco had difficulty keeping his grip.

He had to maintain his advantage.

So, like an animal tamer, his hands pulling at each end of the ligature, he slipped his knee against MacNair's back and pushed to act as a counterbalance. The cord tightened ever more, Draco tense with effort, his knuckled turning white.

It was at this moment Harry finally detached himself. He sprung off the bed and knelt by Draco's side. The blonde kept his hold strong on MacNair. Strangled sounds escaped from the other man's mouth, his face scarlet and his eyes already drifting away. Relief washed through Harry who lifted a comforting visage to Draco.

"That's it, he's out. You can stop."

But Draco didn't seem ready to let go and tugged harder, MacNair's tongue now drooping out of his mouth, obscene sight.

Seeing the agony on the man's face, Harry cried out for Draco to stop.

"You're going to kill him!"

He shook the blonde's shoulder but Draco shrugged him off and kept pulling on the wire with a furious cry. He was out of control.

"Stop Draco!" Harry shouted once again, looking at him with incomprehension.

No need. There was no way to stop him.

Harry slumped away and it was with dismay he watched MacNair's eyes rolling back, and his hands fall limply by his sides. Draco pulled one more time, just to be sure, before letting go of the man who collapsed against him. He pushed the corpse unceremoniously off his torso, a grimace of disgust on his face, and shoved it away with his feet.

It was done.

Harry's eyes rested on MacNair's inert body, horrified by the fight's outcome. He fell back against the bed and brought his knees up to his chest, turning away from the macabre scene. Next to him, Draco exhaled loudly and slumped on his elbows. It had been a hard fight, though his expression showed only contentment and relief.

"You alright?" he asked.

Harry dimly nodded.

Ten seconds later, Draco was already up and in the bathroom. A quick wash to clean his hands and the sweat from his neck, and he was back next to Harry. The brunet had a harder time distancing himself. He had got used to MacNair's presence and it was strange to lose him like that. After a show of madness. In such a sudden and gruesome way.

And here's what was left. Another death. Draco had saved him, but why couldn't he have stopped before... No. It was unfair to think that way.

"He knows…" Harry explained, his eyes lowered and unseeing. "McCarthy, he knows about you, he knows you're alive… He threatened to tell everything to MacNair if I didn't reveal to him where you were hiding…. I tried to reach you, to warn you…"

Little bothered by MacNair's dead body, Draco stepped over it and walked to the window. He took a look at the street and kneeled to pick up his gun with his usual poise.

"I know," he said. "Sandro was on stakeout. When I arrived, he told me he saw MacNair barge in, obviously upset. He smelled trouble.

Draco approached Harry and glanced at his wrists, the laceration marks clearly visible. He moved to touch the skin there, but Harry cringed automatically. Draco knew better than to insist and withdrew his hand.

"Let's go," he said.

MacNair's body on the floor... McCarthy plotting somewhere... the Elders probably on their way... Did they know about him too? They would have shown up already if they did. They would find out soon anyway.

Better not to linger here.

Draco left first without a glance behind. Harry slowly got up on his feet and approached MacNair's body. He barely looked at it. The blank eyes, the pale face, the body lying in a heap. There was nothing there anymore. He crouched down and lifted his hand. His shaky fingers moved along the man's arm down to his pocket. Cautiously, Harry dipped his hand inside, searching. It felt so wrong with this rigid body unmoving. Then he found it: the precious golden chain and its key. He pulled it out, the necklace slowly unrolling from its hiding place. His eyes inadvertently caught the lifeless face of his former companion. Up close, the morbid vision was disgusting, the saliva dripping from the corner of the mouth, the tongue lolling out, and Harry was forced to avert his eyes.

Still shaken up, he joined Draco out of the door and down the stairs. Once in the hall, he grabbed Draco's arm.

"Peter...? The chauffeur."

He didn't know if Peter had lied to him about MacNair just before he entered the building, or if he had even given the signal to MacNair. Or maybe he was simply innocent. Harry could only guess, but whatever the answer, Peter was only obeying orders.

Draco didn't react and walked out.

"The way is clear," he said a moment later, without further explanation.

"But…" Harry uttered, confused.

He crossed the door in turn. Peter's car was still parked on the curb, however there was no trace of him.

"Come," Draco said before running across the street toward the black Mini Cooper where Sandro awaited him.

Harry hadn't followed. He was standing next to Peter's car, looking around, searching for him. Where had he disappeared? Peter had just taken a break, yes, an errand to do.

_Without taking his car?_

Harry moved closer to the vehicle and took a peek inside.

Nothing.

Yes. A stain, right on the driver's seat. Red. A stain of…

_No! Not Peter._

Harry's hand fell flat on the window, the wind playing with his hair, his face petrified. He heard a honk in the distance and lifted his head toward the Mini, now certain of the chain of events. He ran to cross the street but his surroundings felt blurry, as though they were contaminated by the turmoil of his mind. Draco opened the car door and lifted the car seat for Harry but the latter didn't enter. Unsure of what to decide, anger and denial battling inside him, he stayed motionless before the blonde. Draco threw him an impatient look.

"Climb in," he ordered.

Harry kept still.

"Hurry up!" Draco insisted.

"What did you do to Peter?" the brunet asked, his voice both reproachful and shaky.

"If you're talking about MacNair's stooge, he's out."

Harry erupted. He had seen too much that day. "What do you mean? Did you shoot him?" He bit his lips, keeping a thin hold on his emotions.

"I had to. Get in."

Draco's answer, simple and cold. A frightening logic.

For Draco, Peter was just an obstacle in the road. Harry had became familiar with his way of thinking, that of the gangs. Could he accept it? Nothing was less certain.

Harry felt like breaking something, hitting someone. Fuck, how could he stay so detached!

"Come on, do you want the rest of the Elders to barge in?" Draco asked with a sharp tone. "They might already be on their way."

Overtaken by the circumstances, Harry couldn't add anything. His face cold as stone, he slid onto the backseat and sat down heavily. He glanced one last time towards Peter's abandoned car, a lump in his throat, then the landscape moved and the car drove off.

Time to draft an emergency plan.

* * *

**Izzy:** Ah, better! Instead of calling you anon, I can actually address you by name like a real person!

I'm glad you find the story captivating enough. I hope you liked this chapter's twists.

Remus was a bit relegated to the side after Snape's revelations, but don't worry, the issue will resurface now that Harry and Draco have to run for their lives. The story is about to take a new direction, and I can tell you the Weasleys will make an appearance soon enough.

Thanks for the compliment, I greatly appreciate it!

**Anon:** Done! Hope you liked it.


	27. Vanishing Point

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing MsLefay. Thank you for your precious inputs!

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I had a bit of a slowdown but thank you to everyone that reviewed or PMed me to encourage me. I already began working on chapter 27 so the next update won't be that long of a wait.

Now on with the story!

* * *

**CHAPTER 26: VANISHING POINT**

A loud honk, tyres shrieking.

"Hey watch out!"

Draco's hand reaching for Sandro's arm. The car skidded to a halt.

The blonde threw a warning look to Sandro whose hands were gripping the wheel hard. "Calm down will you, you don't want to bring more attention to us."

Behind them, Harry was sitting stiffly on the leather backseat, a hand gripping the edge tightly.

"Sorry, didn't see that bike," Sandro said before starting the engine once more.

Harry relaxed slightly, but for the first time since he had let Draco into his heart, he didn't feel reassured by the latter's presence by his side. There in the car, with his sweaty and bruised hands, he had more than ever the impression that the gangster world was not and would never be his. How could he have even considered being a part of it?

He could never fit in.

Danger was everywhere, and he didn't even know where he stood anymore. From now on, anything could happen. McCarthy wouldn't hesitate to use the dirtiest tactics to get rid of them.

Draco made a call, informing his troops of the latest events while Sandro glanced at Harry's reflection in the rear view mirror. His looks were insistent and it didn't escape the brunet. There was something there that he didn't like at all. Sandro spoke then, taunting and loud "Eh man, there's always corpses on the road, that's the way it goes. If you want to survive, you'd better toughen up."

Harry didn't need to hear this, he knew it already. He had been weak after the phenomena of the black hole, that cursed day when magic had disappeared for good, leaving him bereft, orphaned again. It had engulfed his life with that of many others, shaking his certainties, destroying the remnant memories of his joyful years. The guilt and sadness, that had been distant but unflagging companions till then, had spread their roots deep inside of him. The only saving grace had been Remus and the Weasleys, however bad fortune had struck once more plunging him back into despair. But now rid of his obligations, he was given the chance to take back control of his life. He could be strong again.

But killing was no proof of strength or determination. There was no dignity in the taking of lives.

"I'm not afraid," he said. "But I don't want to be a murderer… I guess it's too hard for you to comprehend."

The other cackled, turning his face slightly toward him. "Ok, let's say someone shoots at you, what do you do then? Hide like a wuss? No, you shoot back."

"I may not have a choice, but I'll do whatever I can to prevent it…" Harry bit back.

"Right, right, of course…" the other ironized, speaking over him.

"You make it sound like there's no other means than force."

"There isn't."

"Of course there is!" Harry countered, his irritation swelling.

"Then we don't live in the same world…"

"You don't know-" Harry began,

"A real saint," Sandro drawled before laughing darkly.

Harry eructed, leaning forward in an offensive gesture. "Don't fucking talk like you know me!"

"Oh I know your kind, with all your bullshit preaching -"

"Just… who the hell are you anyway?" Harry shouted, straightening up in his seat to make himself more imposing. "You think you know everything, huh? So self-confident… full of rage and ambition too, right?" He stared at the man's reflection. Sandro's eyes looked so sharp in the small frame of the rear-view mirror, boring into his own. For a few seconds, there was only the fading sound of Draco's voice in the background and the humming of the car's engine. "You're a new recruit, aren't you?" Harry queried at last.

Another fleeting look in the mirror.

"Yeah, so?" Sandro shrugged, "I've known Draco for years. I've always wanted to work with him. He called me for help and I came. I never let him down, that's more than you can say."

Another attack. The feeling that his story was known by all. It was so easy to judge from afar.

"You think you're so clever…" Harry muttered.

"Just saying… I'm here to stay, and I'll be here long after you're gone."

"Yeah?" Harry chucked darkly. He shouldn't take the bait but he was too riled up to even think properly. His face suddenly hardened and he grabbed the armrest furiously. "You're just… What gives you the right, you condescending prick"

"Hey, don't twist your knickers…" Sandro said with his annoying drawl.

"Shut the fuck up!" An exasperated huff "Why am I even talking to you?"

Sandro's sudden laugh sliced through Harry's protest, fuelling his anger. "You're fucking hilarious," the man said between two chuckles.

"Cut it out!" Draco barked, his phone now off.

Sandro glanced at him with wide eyes and whined, his voice deflating. "What? Come on! Didn't you hear him?"

Draco threw him a biting look. "Concentrate on the road."

Sandro swallowed up his words and complied.

Harry was seething, trying to rein in his anger. He ran a hand through his hair and settled back in his seat. An invisible barrier was separating him from the two men in front of him.

"I need a phone," he said with a strained voice.

But Draco was already dialling a new number on his. He glanced at his neighbour.

"Sandro," Draco demanded, the order implicit.

The driver took a second before acknowledging him. "What?" A tilt of the head, "No."

But Draco's silence was incentive enough and he took out his mobile reluctantly, stiffly outstretching his hand behind him. Harry grabbed the device quickly.

Draco was talking into the handset again while Harry peered at the phone in his hands. He took a deep breath and dialled the number. The ringing tone.

It rang a long moment, then

_"Yes?"_

Ron's voice, almost unfamiliar. It had been so long...

Harry had dreaded this phone call. He had left the Weasleys under uncertain circumstances. Would Ron resent him now? Months had gone by since the incident at the Ex-Stacy, and Harry had given no news since then. Maybe he thought they'd lost him… But it was irrelevant. McCarthy had made menaces against the Weasleys and Harry could not exclude the risk he had already gathered information about them. Perhaps he even knew their location. He had to warn them.

"It's me, it's Harry."

An awkward silence. Harry felt suddenly very emotional. He had been so cut off from the rest of the world, leaving the Weasleys, Hermione and Remus behind... He had to clear his throat before speaking.

"Listen to me. I know what you must think of me but what you saw last time... It's not what it looked like. I infiltrated the Organization. Division 8 enrolled me by force, it was… an ugly blackmail really… they used Remus' safety against me… Well, that's what I thought anyway." He sighed, rubbing his temple tiredly. "It's… complicated. There have been quite a few shakes up since… I can't tell you everything now, but what you have to know is you're in danger. The guy I worked for, McCarthy, he turned against me. He's powerful and he has eyes everywhere. He knows who you are and he won't hesitate hurting you to reach me… We had to run. It turned really badly… MacNair is dead, I… I'll explain you later. All you have to know is that McCarthy is after us now, and that you're in danger too."

Harry had spoken in one go, leaving no chance for Ron to interrupt him. He listened then, waiting for a reaction, but there was no sound on the other end of the phone. Damn. Did he still doubt him? He couldn't expect to regain his trust in the length of a phone call.

Then Ron's voice, sharp and strained. _"_Us?_ Who are you with?"_

Harry knew the question might come up. He answered without beating around the bush, "I'm with Draco." His eyes flickered to the blonde in the front seat who was surely listening to him with half an ear.

_"Draco."_ Ron repeated. _"I see."_

"Please, just... Trust me."

Silence, then Ron's voice again.

_"McCarthy you said… Yeah, the name rings a bell. We already had to deal with him. He's a scumbag, that's for sure. He was loosely linked with… abduction and torture cases I think... Yeah, and every time we found a trail, it led to a dead end. The man's as slippery as a bloody eel."_

A heavy sigh.

_"Harry, what did you get yourself into this time? Can't you ever stay out of trouble?" _

Harry smiled. Ron still cared about him. It was so comforting to know their bond hadn't broken despite the lies and the dreadful circumstances.

"It's nice hearing your voice," he said offhand.

A silence, then an uttered_ "You too."_

Harry talked with a clearer voice now that a weight had left his shoulders, as if the curtain had fallen and they could show their true colours. "He made threats about you, your family, and he's mad enough to follow through with it. You're not safe anymore."

He lowered his eyes.

"I'm sorry you got involved -"

_"Hey, don't start, will you," _Ron berated.

Harry snorted, his eyes softening for a second but a breath later, his air was grave again.

"Ron, you all have to go. As soon as possible."

"_Won't be the first time you know..."_ Ron muttered before his voice turned distant. He was talking to someone else. Other voices far away, Harry heard his name shouted - it sounded like Arthur - then Ron was back on the line. _"Right then we'll move to the Fortress."_

The name evoked faraway memories for Harry.

The way the Weasleys had taken him under their wing, the months they had spent putting a plan together to free Remus, trying to structure their search group. Harry had been impressed by the manner they had organized themselves after Molly's death. The late Mrs Weasley had been killed in one of the Division's detention centres. A breakout attempt, a riot, a violent fall and she was gone. A stupid accident, unworthy of the great lady she was. But the little family had regrouped, stronger than ever. They had decided to create a research unit to find and help the missing ex-wizards. They had travelled all over the country and rallied quite a few muggles to their cause, putting in place a solid network, gathering contacts. Arthur, a good head of the house, led his small world with wisdom and magnanimity. Harry wondered how their group had evolved since they had parted ways almost three years ago. He suddenly missed their passionate debates, the stupid squabbles, the warmness of the Weasley clan. The feeling of getting back to his true family.

"_A little bit of action again. Fred and George will be thrilled…" _

"I bet," Harry smiled.

_"We'll try to find something on that McCarthy guy. And be careful mate, or else I'll never hear the end of it. You know where to find us."_

"Ok.… Ron, thank you," Harry answered with a quivering voice.

_"We're here for you,"_ Ron answered warmly.

"Take care of you all," Harry added before hanging up. He looked at the phone screen with something close to nostalgia.

" …yes, let's meet at the Hoover's pub. I'll be there in ten minutes. Bring Pansy, no one else," he vaguely heard Draco say.

The brief conversion with Ron had plunged Harry back into the blessed period, a time when he had fought to recover, finding purpose again. When life had finally made sense after the 'black-hole' disaster. It was among the Weasleys he had found his place. Now listening to Draco's cold orders and Sandro's blasé expression, he became aware of the gap that separated them. They were looking in different directions. Their worlds were irreconcilable.

Harry watched the landscape flash past the glass of the window. They were crossing the Thames via Westminster Bridge and the Royal Festival Hall was lit like a Christmas tree, coloured spotlights bathing the facade in a garish glow. But he needed to focus on the problem at hand, think of the essentials. They couldn't attack McCarthy and the League head on, they didn't measure up. They had to find cover first, then plan their next move. Harry hinted a smile. It was scary, but thrilling at the same time. Admittedly, he was at the centre of a man hunt, but he could finally decide his next step, free from outside influences.

The car stopped at a red light and Draco turned the rear-view mirror to look at Harry.

"All my men are on the move. Do you know what McCarthy has on us?"

Harry resumed his blank stare and just shook his head "no". Draco observed his reflection a moment before losing interest.

"I have to see Sammy and Pansy," he said to himself, looking ahead.

Harry eyed the blonde, wondering what his place would be in the new plan. Could he follow him if he asked? Wouldn't it be better if they parted ways now? Draco was not the man he had thought… Who was he kidding? He knew who Draco was the moment they met, and it hadn't prevented him from falling in love. But he had lied to himself, refusing to see past the mission and project himself in the future. To see him in action, cold and ruthless had been an eye opener.

Harry lowered his eyes to his lacerated wrists.

MacNair had attacked him like a possessed animal. The Elders, Draco... they had all been brought up among violence and murder. This was what they knew, what they did. The life they had chosen to survive… a path among many others.

What about peace? What was the correct action to take? There was no leader to guide them in this dark world and Harry's heart felt so heavy. Nothing seemed simple anymore: right and wrong, dark and light, morals and vices. He had lost his purpose, was not sure who the enemy was now. The path they followed was no longer clear-cut. They weren't in Hogwarts anymore and that whole lost world, with its tenets and rules, seemed like it had been nothing but a dream. .

What a rude awakening...

When they arrived at the Hoover's a quarter-hour later, there was no trace of Pansy or Sammy. They sat at a table in the corner after ordering three Lagers. Harry was facing Sandro and Draco, his hands resting limply against the sticky wooden table. He had yet to utter a word and the blonde didn't make more effort. Sandro was watching them attentively, turning his pint one way and the other, making annoying sounds with his mouth, then he finally took the floor.

"What do we do now?" he asked before swigging a gulp of bear.

"We vanish," Draco answered. "Tamblin and the others are already packing everything."

Sandro's body jerked forward. "You can't drop it all like that!" he shouted. "What about our meeting with the Bradfields, and our plans with-"

"We'll get back to business when we lose McCarthy and the League, not before," Draco cut him off, controlled and calm.

But Sandro retorted more vigorously than before, "What? You're crazy! We'll be forgotten by then! If you're out of the game, it's over, you don't exist anymore! The opportunities, we got to grab them now. You disappeared from circulation for months so we had trouble starting back up, and now you want to go awol, it's over man, dead in the water."

"That's just the point," Draco answered with a steady voice. "I want to stay alive. The Elders knew I'd be a danger, they kept questioning me. I didn't give up much, but you can be sure they did their research. Just one hint, one indiscreet detail, and they can follow the trail all the way down to us."

He tapped the table with his finger to weigh his words.

"No, we have to disappear, there's no other way."

Sandro squirmed in his chair. He had nothing to object and he was probably annoyed by the hidden warning behind Draco's declaration. The blonde was not through though.

"We killed the general, now they want our heads. And that other psycho will enter the arena in no time and he'll take advantage of this shitty mess we're in to add to our predicament. So you see, we have two very well-informed sources of trouble standing in our way… We're screwed, we won't be able to make a single move without being spotted. No we don't have another option."

Sandro looked at him, dejected. "Then where do we go from here?"

A question that interested Harry too.

"You? Nowhere," Draco answered. "You go back to your family and your Bristol factory."

Sandro slammed both his hands down on the table. "Are you shitting me? No fucking way! I'm going with you!"

Draco gripped one of his wrists to indicate he should lower his voice.

"Nobody's coming with me. I'm McCarthy's number one target. He's out to kill me, and he won't let go. There is no way I will bring anyone else into this mess."

Sandro jerked his thumb toward Harry. "But you'll take him," he bit back, more as a question than anything else.

Draco turned sharp eyes to Harry's concentrated face. The brunet was waiting for his answer too. Draco seemed to mull over the question. He was about to reply when a voice behind him exclaimed, "So that's it, you're on the run?"

Draco turned to see Sammy smirking at him, Pansy on his arm. Harry was glad to see Pansy's face. A touch of gentleness in this sinister pub.

The young woman leaned over Draco to encircle him with her arms.

"Sammy told me there was something wrong. I got scared," she said with her soft voice.

Draco threw a dark look to Sammy who patted his back with an apologetic air. The man gave a quick handshake to Sandro. He moved behind Harry, resting his hand on his shoulder as a way of greeting, then sat alone to one side. Pansy approached Harry and hugged him in turn before settling next to him, in front of Draco.

"You brought what I asked you to?" the blonde asked Sammy.

"Here," the other said, handing him a large leather messenger bag.

Draco glanced at his watch. "Alright, we're not going to drag this on. Sammy, I want you to make sure no one chances anything. _Do not_ cause a stir," he said, turning to Sandro too. "I want the whole machine to stop. No contact, no deals, nothing. Full radio silence. Keep a low profile, alright? Sammy, you close all our accounts and you go back to Bristol and get on with your life. When the crisis is over, I'll contact you again. In the mean time, I don't want to hear a whisper about you, is that understood?"

Sammy nodded, his countenance solemn.

Draco turned to Sandro to drive the point home.

"You too Sandro. Keep your impulsiveness to yourself. Trust me, you don't want to fuck with these guys."

He turned to look at Pansy with visible apprehension. No more determination on his face, he was tense, and as if she sensed it, the girl began shaking her head.

"No, I want to stay with you," she said, without him having to word a thought.

Draco seemed to be fighting within himself.

"You can't come with me this time, princess," he whispered, eyes lowered first. "I'm sorry but it's too dangerous for you."

Pansy's face crumbled, her eyes glistening. She shrank in on herself, begging with a quivering voice, "Please, I'll make myself very small... You won't even notice I'm there."

Harry saw the girl's hands twisting the cotton of her dress. Her distress was obvious in all her gestures, and Draco's heavy silence was slowly breaking her.

"I can't go back there..." she whispered.

Draco's eyes hardened then, looking straight at her

"You will never go back there, I promised you, you know that," he declared in a firm voice, leaning over the table so he could touch her chin. "Everything will be alright. I called Daphné, she will take care of you."

Pansy seemed relieved but the sadness was still there.

"But I don't want to leave you..."she whimpered.

Draco lifted his brows and talked with a kind but resolute tone, "Pansy, I can't leave until I'm sure you're safe, so what do you propose? You'd rather I stay here and let them kill me, hm? Or that I go worrying about you every minute of the day."

Pansy bit her lips, eyelashes fluttering, clearly torn by the situation. Draco and she had never parted for long, that much was obvious. She looked so heart-broken by his departure.

"No, but..." she trailed off.

Draco outstretched his arm on the table, palm facing up. She looked down and put her shivering hand inside his. He squeezed it and leant lower to lock eyes with her.

"I'll come back and get you. You know I will, don't you?"

Pansy stared at him and in spite of her obvious reluctance, she answered with a small "yes".

"That's the Pansy I love," he said, cupping her cheek.

In their exchanged glances, a silent oath.

"What about Harry?"

Sammy's voice.

Harry turned to him sharply. Draco straightened up, his stance suddenly colder, and answered,

"It is for him to decide"

"So you're ready to take him onboard?" Sandro violently reacted.

"Harry is a wanted man like me," retorted Draco blankly as a way of explanation.

The answer disturbed Harry in its indifference.

Sandro kicked the leg of the table like an angry teenager and grumbled,

"I don't fucking understand you. You say you don't want us around to hamper you, but him? He's the biggest millstone of all around your neck! He's the one whining like a baby just 'cause we offed one of those arseholes!"

Draco stiffened. "You're not in a position to question my decisions." he snapped in a threatening tone. "Harry can come with me or follow his own path."

A choice. Harry was given a choice.

The brunet's eyes wavered, uncertain. His heart told him to follow Draco but Sandro had pointed out the real issue: his aversion for their ways, murder and violence. He and Draco… Perhaps they simply weren't meant to be. If the blonde wanted a quick answer, he wouldn't have it now.

Harry was lost in the contemplation of his glass. He needed a sign. Something that would make up his mind.

Suddenly, a rising voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned his head toward the counter. It was the monotone and rapid speech of a newscaster coming from the TV in the corner of the bar. The bartender had the remote in his hand and was turning up the volume.

_" …a tragedy this morning. After breaking into private property in the historic town of Egham, in Runnymead Surrey, two gunmen shot dead the homeowner and another man. The dead men, described only as 'middle-aged', had recently moved into the area. The community is shocked by this violent crime and the neighbours have expressed disbelief that this could happen in this quiet suburban town. _

Images of the police securing the perimeter with blue and white tape, passers-by trying to get a better look and neighbours gathered in small groups talking quietly with sad, stunned demeanour.

Sandro averted his eyes, disinterested, and asked for another beer while Draco peered at his watch.

_"The police have released the names of two men wanted in connection with the killings. They are Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter…"_

They all turned in one movement, eyes riveted on the TV bracketed to the ceiling in the corner of the bar. Their faces were frozen in incredulous expressions.

"What are they talking about?" Pansy shouted, horrified by the bogus story, before Harry put a hand over her mouth.

_"Both came from the immigration wave of the so-called wizards, the two men already have criminal history, notably for drugs trafficking and fraud."_

"Fucking aliens..." someone slurred at the counter. "... rotten, all of them..."

Their photos appeared on the screen. Two mug shots.

"Oh come on..." Harry whispered, dumbfounded.

He looked at their faces on the screen. Harry's mug shot had been taken five years ago, when he had been arrested for drug possession, his face emaciated, hair longer then, a ratty t-shirt on his back. At the time, police had mistaken him from a tramp: he had no papers on him, only a few notes in his pocket. He had been given three months of detention, then they had sent him back on to the streets.

Draco's picture was no better. It looked a few years old. His eyes were softer, his air more juvenile, but he had this strange smirk that gave him a dangerous edge. It had probably been taken before his trial, during Astoria's debacle.

They looked like two crooks.

"_They are also suspected members of the Mafia circles holding sway over the country, among which is the infamous "Organization", partly dismantled last month. The motive for the murders is yet to be fully determined. These men are thought to be armed and dangerous. Police advise the public not to approach them if sighted but to dial 999 immediately. Any information can be given anonymously to the police either through Crimestoppers or on this Emergency Incident Number…"_

Harry cradled his head between his hands. McCarthy had planned it all. He wanted to be sure they were dead. It would be much more difficult to escape now with their pictures circulating all over the media. No way could they leave the country now.

Draco's fists tightened while Sammy mocked, "Great, boys, you're on your road to fame!"

Harry observed with sideway glances the people at the counter, the bartender drying the glasses… so many eyes around them.

Draco finished his drink and put his pint down. "Let's get out of here," he ordered dryly, throwing a note onto the table before getting up.

They all rose, Draco keeping his head low, his attitude reserved and his walk smooth. Like a chameleon, he managed to blend in with the scenery, despite the danger. Harry was the last to leave. The low chatters, the clinking of glasses, the rising voices, every sudden sound or move assaulted him, latent threats. It would only take one person to recognize them and it could all go downhill very fast.

Though his shifty looks betrayed his nervousness, he pulled it off all the same, reaching the exit easily, until, a few steps from the door, a man abruptly backed his chair. Harry was too slow to react, unavoidably bumping into him. A quick apologetic glance and Harry mumbled a "I'm sorry" to the stranger but the latter turned a heated stare toward him. The grumpy man was looking for a fight, he'd had a bad day or he was just pissed, there was no way to tell, but he blocked his route with narrowed eyes.

"Watch where the fuck you're going," he slurred with uneven teeth.

"Sorry", Harry repeated before sidestepping past him. A hand stopped him and Harry half-closed his eyes with exasperation. The man hovered over him, bringing his face close to Harry's as if he was goading him. Harry evened his stare, but where as the other man seemed to take the situation seriously, Harry simply wanted to end this farce and get out of here.

The man's scrutiny lingered a bit too long for his taste. The stranger's eyes blinked, like they were unfocused, widening and narrowing again. He swayed a bit, unsteady on his feet, and snarled "Wait a minute…"

Harry froze, terrified the man had just recognized him, when he felt a hand sliding around his back.

"Babe, you're too clumsy for your own good," he heard Draco drawl. The blonde then glommed onto him before bending forward to catch his lips in a searing kiss.

A dumbfounded Harry let him take the lead, all pliant in his embrace, his arms flopped by his sides. Draco smoothed his hair down, his hands cupping his face and ended the kiss flashing a radiant smile to their spectator. The man was displaying a disgusted expression on his face and soon recoiled, knocking a chair over on his way.

"Fucking faggots," he grumbled, taking a seat further away from the couple.

Draco's tender expression changed in a jiffy, his eyes narrowing, bold and determined again. They slid to Harry's face. A nod to make sure he was fine, a quick scan around the room, then he urged Harry to move with a press of his hand on the small of his back. Without further ado, they walked out the pub.

Once in the street, Draco drew the group to the pub's side alley to distribute his instructions.

"Sandro, you call all our associates, you cancel everything like we said. You shut down everything, tell them it's an emergency."

He gave Sandro his appointment schedule then turned to Sammy.

"I'm counting on you to liquidate of all our assets. Do it now and leave no trace. Keep the cash with you, find a safe place to hide it. No banks, no paper trail alright?"

He gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder and turned to Pansy. This time, he dragged her aside, further down the alley.

The two were standing close and Harry noted the intimacy that sprang from the simple way they were looking at each other. Draco's hands lifted to cup her face.

"Pansy, I'll always be here for you, ok? Everything will be alright. You need to be strong, for me," he said, his lips thinning and his eyes drooping slightly. It was a vulnerable sight, seeing him that moved. This was a hard goodbye. "Stay with Daphné and be good. I can count on you, right?"

Pansy had kept her chin up, listening to Draco's words, but then she let her sadness overflow, tears running freely down her cheeks, her swallowed whimpers heartrending in that moment. She hung to Draco's neck, her hands forming tight fists while she nodded fiercely. Draco hugged her back, scrunching his eyes shut. It was a brotherly embrace, warm and unrestrained. When he separated from her, Draco sniffed and brushed his hand against his nose, glancing sideways toward Harry and the others. He snapped himself upright and made his way out.

If the blonde was strong and pugnacious, there was also a frightened child somewhere deep inside, the Draco who had cried after the massacre of the families in Berlin, who had broken down after Blaise's death, who had freaked out after Harry had pronounced MacNair's surname. Just like Pansy needed Draco, Harry knew that Draco needed Pansy. From the beginning, they had found strength and comfort in each other, and looking at Pansy, Harry could see all that fragility, all the silent cries for help.

Harry walked up to the young woman and smiled at her.

"Thank you... for having believed in me," he said. He buried his hands in his pockets, looking at her almost shyly.

There was nothing to add, he had said it all. Pansy had led him to Draco, she had supported him despite his crazy ideas, and even when he had let them down, she had not lost faith in him. Despite her unstable state, he had learned to love her for her sincerity and unconditional generosity.

She peered at him with a straight face. "You'll take care of him, won't you?" she asked.

Harry's eyes filled with uncertainty. He didn't want to lie to her. He wasn't sure he'd stay with Draco till the end. The wind whistled around them. He looked at the ground, then at her again and finally broke the silence.

"I promise," he said.

It wasn't a complete lie. Harry was ready to give another chance to Draco, at least for the time of their escape. As for the rest… who knew what the future held anyway.

He smiled and took her hand in his. When she reopened it, she discovered the golden chain with its small key in her palm.

"This way, we'll be there with you whatever happens," Harry whispered.

She looked into his eyes and down at the chain, then swiftly turned her back to him and lifted her long locks out the way for him to fasten the trinket around her neck. Harry gently put his hands to her neck and when he was done, ran his thumb along the chain, caressing her skin in a tender gesture. Pansy let her hair fall back over her shoulders and turned with a smiling face. She looked down at the golden key resting in the centre of her chest, her chin almost touching the hollow of her throat, and then grabbed his hand again. The gratitude in her eyes meant more than any words.

"Better get on the move," Sammy intervened behind them. "If someone recognized you, a simple phone call and then… "

Harry took a deep breath and whirled around to walk away. His eyes met Draco's who was clearly upset. He had seen Harry's gift to Pansy. Perhaps he had taken it as the ultimate rejection on his part, which it wasn't meant to be. It was a fair trade. The chain had helped Harry once, and Pansy needed more than him. He wasn't giving the pendant away, he was simply passing it on. At least that's how he saw it. Maybe there was more to it, Harry himself didn't want to dig too deep, he had just felt it was the right thing to do.

Draco turned on his heels with a faraway look and hugged his two faithful followers goodbye. Harry was lagging behind, letting them having their moment, then he exchanged simple hand-shakes. It was a strange moment. No one knew when or where they would meet again nor what to say in such a moment, if not platitudes: words that couldn't come close to the reality of things, or what they were feeling. Endless glances, lingering steps, then it was time to go. Draco and Harry turned one last time toward the group.

"See you soon guys," Draco said with a cheerful air as if he had no doubt they would meet again.

The last captured moment: Sammy behind Pansy, his hands on the girl's shoulder, giving her strength while her eyes followed them, Sandro rolling a discarded bottle cap on the floor with his foot, a bit dejected.

Then Draco turned the corner. He took out his cellphone and with a flick of his wrist, threw it down the gutter before walking away. Harry gave a last wave of his hand in Sammy and Pansy's direction and headed to the car.

Draco was already inside when Harry climbed in. Once the door slammed shut, the silence and their sudden proximity hit Harry. They were alone, the two of them. No more buffer now.

Draco started the car without a word and drove off.

A few bumps on the road, the city passing by, and after a few minutes Harry finally asked,

"Where are we going?"

"Meeting an old friend," Draco answered, eyes on the road. "He'll put us up for the time we need to organise ourselves."

"Another one of your brother-in-arms?" Harry curtly asked.

Draco didn't gratify him with an answer and Harry didn't push the matter further. It was obvious the blonde was tense. An argument would be useless at this point.

Red light. The car stopped and Draco indicated a left turn.

_Tac. Tac. Tac._

The repetitive noise succeeded in annoying a very nervous Harry. He could tell their trip would be endless if they didn't root out the evil soon.

_Baaaam!_

A terrific shock, their bodies were propelled forward, then their heads smashed into the windshield with a thud. The force hit like a hammer blow. Stunned, Harry could barely process what had just happened: a car had just crashed into their bumper with unbelievable violence.

In the rear view mirror, a blue Range Rover was embedded in the back of the car.

Draco lifted dangerous eyes, a large cut across his forehead. His hands tightened on the wheel. Next to him, Harry looked at the blood stains on the windshield, himself bearing a bad bruise on the temple. He turned his head and saw two passengers in the car. Their faces were hardly distinguishable with the weak light under the grey sky. But he knew. It was McCarthy's men, no doubt. They hadn't been followed before, otherwise they would already be dead. No, someone at the pub had probably called the cops and McCarthy's informants had passed the word on in no time.

They had been fast.

"Fuck me!" Draco grumbled before changing gear in a brutal movement, teeth bared. Harry looked up the red light, then the cars speeding across the junction in front of them. They would crash!

You're crazy!" Harry shouted.

Draco didn't hesitate, he stomped on the accelerator, the tyres screeching in protest, and the car bolted. The pedestrians unhurriedly crossing the street jumped back screaming. The Mini charged ahead full speed, the cars opposite braking or turning sharply to avoid the collision.

They somehow managed to navigate their way out unscathed and kept travelling fast, leaving a pretty mess behind them. Harry pulled his seatbelt on with shaky hands and turned toward the back window.

_Shit! _

They had failed to lose the car. Their pursuers were not far behind. Draco stepped hard on the accelerator, their speedometer was edging passed 75 miles. Harry put his hand against the door to keep grounded, his heart beating wild. The motor was roaring, making the whole vehicle vibrate. Then Draco took a sharp turn left, both hands on the steering wheel, rotating it all the way. The car's wheels lifted for a second under the brutal manoeuvre. Another abrupt turn to the right, then while they sped onwards down the road…

_Pfffeeeeeeeeeeee!_

… a bullet whistled between their seats, the impact making a nice hole in the rear windshield. Eyes riveted on the road, Draco continued his risky manoeuvres, slaloming and spilling out onto the right lane, when another bullet pierced the sheet metal. Not much damage inside but the motherfuckers aimed well. Draco sped up again, but the other car kept catching up with them inexorably.

A new violent impact and the car bounced, propelling Harry and Draco forward once more, lifting them off their seats for a second. Their heads bounced back, necks stiff, then Harry glanced at Draco with a panicked look. The blonde swore again.

"Son of a bitch!"

He accelerated a notch, but they were too close, and one, two bullets again. Draco yelled, "The glove box!"

Harry frowned but obeyed quickly.

He opened the box: inside, an automatic gun. Harry looked at the weapon, a lump in his throat. He didn't reach for it, seemingly transfixed. Draco peered in his direction between glancing at the road and in the rear-view mirror.

"Take it!" he said, irritated by Harry's lack of reactivity.

Harry knew well what he wanted but he had no intention of using the gun. Draco's eyes flickered toward him.

"Harry!" he shouted to shake him up.

"I won't shoot in the middle of the street!" the brunet shouted back. "I might hit someone!"

Draco held himself, teeth gritted, looking exasperated. He turned his focus back to the road and the wing mirror. "Yeah, well we'll croak if you do nothing, is that what you want?"

_Pfffeeeeeeeeeeee!_

This time, the bullet grazed Draco's head. The blonde leaned forward and cursed. He turned the wheel left in an abrupt skid before regaining control of the car again.

Harry didn't say anything. He hesitated grabbing the gun. He had to protect them, didn't he? But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Draco didn't insist more, slaloming right and left to avoid another onslaught of firing, using all the techniques he knew to lose their pursuers, but the car was still tailgating them.

It was hopeless.

At that moment, Harry's stare narrowed slightly onto his surroundings, observing the area with intense concentration. His eyes suddenly opened wide, the idea dazzling.

"Take the next left!"

"What?" Draco let out with surprise.

"The left! Turn to the left!" Harry repeated, pointing out ahead of them.

Draco followed his advice despite his doubts. The Mini spun with a screeching sound to venture into a long alley lined with dustbins and empty crates, which it hastened to knock over. The car skidded a bit, the blue Range Rover not far behind. Bullets rained down again, striking the car with every shot. There was no way to escape them in that small passage way. Draco groaned, surely regretting having followed Harry's directive, but he drove the car further on regardless.

Draco's face blanked when he saw the alley narrow at the end.

"Fuck, we won't make it!" he shrieked.

"Yes we will! It's good, it's good, go, go, GO!" Harry encouraged.

Draco eyed him and, emboldened by his confident stare, stepped onto the accelerator, arms outstretched on the wheel, his body leaning backward as if preparing himself to smash into the wall. The motor growled, the alley walls closing in on them, and Harry and Draco shouted at the same time,

"Aaaaaaaah!"

And with a few centimetres to spare, the Mini flew out the exit. The Range Rover behind them was less lucky, and the driver, realizing his mistake, slammed on the brakes. Too late though. The metal sheet made an ear-cringing squeaking, leaving a few sparks on the walls, and the force of the compression destroyed the bonnet, bending the front completely.

The Mini turned in the perpendicular street and backed up, Draco and Harry contemplating their victory for a second: the two men trapped inside the car, trying desperately to get out, the car's doors completely stuck between the walls. Draco whistled loudly while Harry gave a good-hearted laugh. They looked at each other and the immediate glee and complicity drowned under the depth of their stares. Harry's laughter tuned into a smile, then the uneasiness came back full force. It was too fresh. They weren't ready yet.

Besides, they had to hit the road again, and fast. The men inside the Rover began shooting through the windshield to get out, and more pursuers might be on their way. Draco turned his eyes ahead of him and drove off again. If Harry's sense of direction served him well, he guessed they were somewhere in Dagenham, still inside the M25.

After putting enough distance between them and their assailants, Draco parked, grabbed his messenger bag and got out of the car. Harry followed him.

"What are you doing?" he asked the moment he set foot outside.

Draco looked away, in the distance, so Harry couldn't see what had caught his attention. The blonde pulled his bag's shoulder strap over his head and across his chest.

"Small change of vehicle. We're sitting ducks in this one."

Draco hurried toward a street further down the road, his focus apparently set on something. Harry ran behind him, looking right and left, trying to understand what was going on. There, a man wearing a leather jacket and black biker boots removed his helmet and hopped down from his motorbike. Harry understood and crooked a smile. In the urgency of the situation, he supposed there weren't a hundred solutions.

The key still in the ignition, it was the moment.

Draco arrived right behind the biker and attacked him with a violent blow on the back of his neck. He had the knack: the man collapsed unconscious immediately. Harry regarded the poor guy on the ground. At least it had been fast and clean.

Draco grabbed the helmet, wrenching it away from the man's hands none too gently, and gazed down at his own suit. Too uncomfortable for a motorbike ride. He bent again over the biker on the ground and pulled his leather jacket off. He divested himself of his blazer and neatly folded it, placing it in the small storage box at the back along with his messenger bag. The jacket was a size too big, the sleeves billowing out at the arms and waist, but it fit him well enough.

This new apparel gave him an adventurous air and when he straddled the motorbike, Harry gazed at him as if one of his fantasies had just come true. Draco eyed him rapidly and Harry discretely cleared his throat.

"Hop on," the blonde urged with a tilt of his head before donning the helmet.

Harry approached Draco. "You know how to drive this contraption?" he asked, peering at the beast.

It was a black Kawasaki Vulcan, a cruiser motorbike, accessorized with a top box on the back. Harry swung his leg over the machine to position himself right against the blonde.

"I manage," Draco answered nonchalantly. He started the engine, gave the throttle a few twists, making the motor roar, then turned and warned, "Hold on tight."

Harry hooked his arms around the blonde's waist and pushed his knees forward a bit more so he was tightly pressed flush to Draco. Straddling the powerful machine like that, the sensation of the leather under his fingers and Draco's body against him… he felt a fleeting but deep emotion. A thrilling sense of freedom.

Draco opened the throttle fully up and the motorbike tore off at top speed. Harry tightened his fingers around Draco's torso, leaning further upon him for more security. The rush of air battling his hair bothered him somewhat and he kept his eyes half-closed, resting his head on Draco' back to protect himself from the wind. The illusion of an embrace. The sensation was overwhelming: the speed, the wilderness of their escape.

And Draco who was so close to him without fighting, no battle of egos, no thought but that of the open road.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

They crossed through Essex, South to North, sticking to the side roads and back ways. The last thing they wanted was an eagle eyed police officer stopping them for Draco's un-helmeted pillion passenger. Somehow their luck held and they made it out of London, beyond the M25, the effervescence of the capital giving way to the leafier suburbs. Harry hadn't set foot in such places in years. In all his various "prisons"', he had always stayed mired in the cities' hell, the unforgiving urban jungle. Here, in this more peaceful setting, surrounded by woodland and closer to nature, he could breathe easier.

Night had already fallen when they entered the town of Braintree. The area had its charm, with its small cottages and its peaceful atmosphere. It was a smallish town and they passed few people on the road. They arrived at a quiet hotel set out of the town centre, and Harry let go of Draco with regret. He had to admit he had revelled in that simple physical connection. The blonde took off his helmet, running a hand through his rumpled hair. Harry enjoyed seeing him like this, untamed, with the wild, free side that came with his biker outfit.

It was ridiculous. He felt attracted to the blonde again, just like the first time he'd seen him. The same devastating effect, as if a fire was spreading through his body. It was in those moments, fascinated by Draco, that he realized he was hooked, and he had it bad. It wouldn't be easy to break this thing, this need, lust, love, he didn't know to define it anymore. But he reasoned that separating couldn't be helped when the differences started to get in the way and tarnish even the sweetest times. Sometimes, love wasn't enough. What was the point in tearing each other apart? This moment between them would solve nothing and he had to pull himself together.

They entered the guest house through a worse for wear hallway and headed to the reception desk. The hotelkeeper, a tall woman with a long plait falling down her back, was laughing when they approached. She was glancing through a small door behind her from where a grainy voice was bumbling incomprehensible words.

"I hope you told them they'd be locked out if they weren't back before 11?" the woman cackled in a thick Germanic accent.

After another laugh, she glanced at her new clients with undisguised annoyance, clearly bothered by the interruption. There was a moment of dread when she stared at them: had she seen their photos on the TV, could she recognize them? Even in quiet towns like this, news spread fast. But when the woman came toward the counter, dusting off her woollen dress, she acted with a detachment bordering on hostile.

"Yes?" she asked in a dismissive tone, looking like she had no desire to welcome any more strangers.

Draco unzipped his jacket and levelled his eyes to hers, visibly affronted by her behaviour. He didn't answer her and the woman was forced to make an effort.

"Do you need a room?" she asked.

Draco stared at her, his chin up and replied with a curt tone, "Yes, a twin room please."

Harry who was standing nearby felt a sliver of bitterness on hearing his request. Of course, they weren't a couple anymore. It had happened without a word, like an obvious fact. Sharing a room but not sharing a bed seemed preposterous nevertheless. There had always been this pull between them, this need to touch and feel each other, and now it was gone. Brutally cut off. Harry remembered then their last trysts at Blossoms Hotel, their passionate encounters… and their catastrophic outcome.

It was for the best he kept reminding himself.

The hotel keeper pursed her lips in a rather irritated way. "The only rooms left have double beds…" she said in a tired slur.

At least, the choice was out of their hands. They were worn out by the events of the day, and could certainly not ride around town to find another place.

Draco finally accepted with a sharp "Fine, we'll take it."

He had hidden his disappoint poorly and Harry, seeing him so annoyed, was flabbergasted. He had not realized his presence was so bothersome and it hurt. After all, it was the first time they were in such a situation, wanted men, both on the run. Draco liked to be in control, master of the game. Harry was a complication. The blonde might well see him as his ball and chain... Had he kept him by his side out of pity, or guilt? Their cohabitation risked being harder than he had first thought.

The room was small and dark.

Old flowery wallpaper, thick green curtains, a worn brownish carpet decorated with an eye-straining floral pattern and the double bed draped by a large beige wool cover.

Draco let his bag drop from his shoulder onto the upholstered chair next to the window and removed his jacket with a tired sigh. Harry entered awkwardly behind him. He settled on the bed and leaned back, making two small jumps to position himself.

"It looks comfy," he noted lowly. He sighed, turned to Draco and immediately reddened at the blonde's ambiguous stare. He had not meant to imply anything by that. They observed each other poker-faced in a stony silence, when Draco suddenly spoke out,

"I'm gonna take a shower."

With that he slipped out into the bathroom.

Harry rose, tired by all this uneasiness. When did speaking to each other become so difficult?

He peered out of the window. Outside was deep night. The complete silence bothered him. He wasn't used to this anymore and it felt heavy and unnatural somehow. He was so utterly alone in this impersonal room, in the middle of nowhere. It made him think back on Draco's attitude, how everything seemed broken between them, like they had never been.

Over.

How ironic: now that there were no more obstacles to their relationship, their story was dying down. Was this trip for two a mistake? What were Draco's intentions? Harry didn't want to be involved with a new gang, he wanted to be through with McCarthy, the League, put it all behind. He wanted to know if Remus was still alive. But if Draco was planning to rekindle his business once away from McCarthy, their roads had to separate now.

He heard the water spray stop and started to undress, taking his jacket and sweater off and hanging them inside the wardrobe. They had strictly nothing on them, except for their clothes, some money and Draco's messenger bag which probably contained papers about his business. He was standing in his underwear when Draco walked out of the bathroom, a yellow towel around his hips, a few droplets suspended on his skin. Harry's eyes fogged a second, his breathing stuck in his throat, his body reacting in the most embarrassing way. The corner of the blonde's eyes wrinkled slightly, oh so knowingly and Harry rushed to a speedy exit, walking past him and into the bathroom.

After a quick but welcomed wash, he joined Draco in the bedroom. The latter had lain down on the bed. His torso was naked but his black trousers were back on. As for Harry, he redressed in his white thin t-shirt and briefs to cover himself up a bit and sat on the bed's edge. Now that Draco and he didn't share the same intimacy, lying there together seemed inappropriate.

They stayed still in silence. Draco contemplated the wall, arms crossed behind his head and Harry pretended to read the hotel brochure he had found on the bedside table, while slyly glancing at the blonde.

"What did you plan with your_ friend_?" the brunet asked out of the blue. "Is he going to help us with McCarthy or are you already thinking about a new alliance?"

Draco closed his eyes, unable to conceal his irritation. "Let's not discuss the issue please."

Harry threw the prospectus on the bedside table with a flick of his wrist, equally annoyed.

"What issue do you mean? I just want to know what we're doing here. You don't tell me anything! And I want to be sure we're going in the same direction, that's all. "

"Yeah, well what do you want?" Draco retorted, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"I want to find a solution about McCarthy and the League, full stop."

He wasn't ready to talk to him about Remus. That part didn't concern him.

"That's what I want too," Draco bit back. "So everything's fine!"

Harry snorted at that, and Draco didn't let it pass.

"What?"

"No, nothing," Harry answered, averting his eyes.

"Tell me!" Draco insisted.

So Harry got it all off his chest.

"Everything's not fine!" he snapped. "We can't stay like this, sulking and snapping at each other while everything's falling apart. I want us to talk."

Draco straightened up and turned a dark stare to Harry.

"I already know what you're going to say and I don't need that, thank you."

"You don't know anything!" Harry defended himself.

Draco pulled on his shoes while answering,

"I know perfectly what you think about me, and I don't need your judgmental bullshit."

Harry opened his mouth gawping like a fish and retorted,

"You're the one who judges me and keeps pushing me away since…" he waved his arm in the air "… that MacNair thing… while there was no reason to… And now you can't stand being in the same room as me! Do you despise me that much?"

Draco rose this time and peered at him from his full height.

"It has nothing to do with that. MacNair I can forget, but let's be honest, it's you who don't want me here."

Harry furrowed his brows. Draco was turning the situation round, it wasn't true. Yet, Harry did nothing. Nothing to contradict him. He kept mute and Draco concluded all the same,

"The moment you rejected my plan to eliminate the League, treating me like a vulgar criminal, I realized you would never accept who I am. I think I always knew it but I deluded myself believing there was another way… Then seeing that look on your face… after I finished MacNair and his man off, it was clear. You despise me."

The blonde lowered his eyes and put on his shirt.

"That's the truth," he added blankly.

Struck by what he had heard, Harry watched him move around with dull eyes. Draco had only reacted to what he had sensed behind his actions. It wasn't stubbornness or simple jealousy like Harry had thought. It was deeper than that. Harry wanted to reassure Draco and refute his words, but no sound came out. His body seemed to know what he himself tried to deny. Because Draco had guessed right: Harry wouldn't accept Draco for who he was. It was as simple as that.

Draco grabbed his wallet and opened the door. He turned his head without looking at Harry, offering him only his profile.

"I'm going downstairs, see if they have something to eat," he said. There was a beat when the door stayed half-opened, like a hesitation or just a passing thought, then he walked out the door.

Harry stood in the same position, his face a blank mask. What was he supposed to do? Throw himself at Draco, tell him he still loved him? And then what? Force him to quit his bad habits, make an honourable man of him? He couldn't well change him. Was it fair of him to even want to?

"Stupid… What the fuck is wrong with me?" he muttered like a lost man, rubbing his tired eyes.

He was supposed to be thinking about McCarthy and finding a way to neutralize him, but no, he kept torturing himself with this endless dilemma.

Draco came back a few minutes later with roast beef club sandwiches. He put the plate down on the bed, took one of the triangles from it and began eating. Harry imitated him a few seconds later, and nibbled on the toast half-heartedly.

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled between two bites. He glanced at Draco but the blonde wasn't looking at him. "My feelings haven't changed. I want you, but not like that."

Upset by his inability to formulate what he had in his mind, Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly. It sometimes felt so clear up there, in his head, and then, the moment he opened his mouth, it all came out wrong. Suddenly nothing made sense anymore.

And then he questioned everything.

With a shake of his head and a sigh he tried nonetheless. "I mean I…I don't know what I want." He sighed and put down his snack with a dejected air. "It shouldn't be like that," he whispered. "It shouldn't be so hard, should it?"

Draco gazed at him, a bitter smile upon his lips. He took the last bite of his sandwich and put an end to the conversation,

"We'd better sleep now. We have a long day tomorrow."

After a last passage to the bathroom, the two got into bed, clumsily pulling the sheets toward them. The silence stretched in the bed that suddenly felt so small and uncomfortable. Harry turned the light off and laid stiffly, his eyes open in the dark room, listening to Draco's uneven breath. His head rolled sideway. In front of him, Draco's face was softly lit by the moon's rays, his eyelids closed, breathtaking in his peacefulness. A sight to behold. Harry unconsciously moved closer to him, his arms stuck to his body as if afraid to make a brusque gesture. Then his green eyes rested on the rosy scar between the golden strands, the delicate skin, the lips.

_Those lips. _

As his face came closer, only a few centimetres from Draco, the blonde's eyes suddenly opened. Harry's own widened with surprise but he kept still. Their eyes lost themselves in each other, simply observing. No violent desire but a quiet recognition, like two souls calling out to each other. Their faces were so close their breaths mingled and joined the same rhythm. Then Harry leaned forward and dropped a kiss on the blonde's mouth, merely lingering, only a taste. He knew he was clouding the limits of their relationship again but he didn't care at this moment. It felt right.

They eyed each other like two curious children, then Harry gave Draco another kiss, tracing the compliant lips with his tongue before crossing the threshold, savouring Draco's unique taste mixed with the minty toothpaste. It was tender. He was taking his time in slow exploration. Draco moved closer to him, his body now moulded to his, the bulge in his trousers rubbing against the brunet's thigh.

But it was the sign Harry had been waiting for to signal stop. He drew back, looked at Draco and whispered, "Don't."

Draco sobered up and his whole body stiffened as he began to pull away but Harry reached quickly for him again.

"Can we just… stay like this?" he asked.

He didn't want to go further, only to find some comfort in his arms. Nothing would change but he would at least hold this moment of tenderness. Draco's eyes softened. There was understanding in them. Sadness too. His arm wrapped around Harry's waist, his hand resting on the small of his back, their two bodies facing each other like a perfect mirror image.

Harry relaxed into Draco's arms, his head under the blonde's chin. Then rest, finally.

* * *

**Anonymous:** Thank you. Well these sweet little twists come from my troubled, convoluted mind. I'm just trying to mess with your head, really :) By the end of the story, I bet you'll be so used to it you'll see everything coming from miles away. I'll be like "No, really, nothing's coming, I'm not playing tricks! " and you'll be like "Hm hm, I don't believe a word you wrote, I know it's hiding something". All my readers turn into little Sherlock Holmes in the end. It's like they're trying to outplay me.

Once you know the trick, it becomes more challenging from me, so I do my best!

**Izzy:** Yaaayeee to you too! :D I'm glad you liked it and that the violence didn't turn you off.

Peter's death was a sad sacrifice, but you got to do what you got to do...


	28. On the Wild Side

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Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing MsLefay. Thank you for your precious inputs!

A/N: No, you're not dreaming, this is a new chapter! I can't believe it myself. So let me apologize for the long wait and... well, I hope this chapter will make up for it. All I have to say is I'm glad to be back!

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**CHAPTER 27: ON THE WILD SIDE**

The room was dark and cold when Harry woke up. He turned on his side and the movement made him whimper. His limbs were heavy and sore as if someone had battered him hard. The emotional and physical exhaustion of the last few days were taking their toll on him. With bleary eyes, he looked at the bedside table. He outstretched his hand and fumbled for his watch. Lazily, he lifted his chin and squinted to make out the numbers and read 7.30 before slumping his head back on the pillow. Morning then. Harry closed his eyes again. It felt like he hadn't slept at all. Surely a few more minutes would do him good. A moment of peaceful rest then his eyes popped open. MacNair's murder, the car chase, they were on the run.

Harry craned his neck to look over his shoulder and was not surprised to find Draco had already left the bed. He absently brushed the sheet, cold and crumpled where the blonde had laid. The rain was battering against the window, lulling Harry back to sleep again when the slamming of the door jerked him wide awake. Something was thrown under his nose and he grabbed it mechanically. He watched Draco's retreating back disappear into the bathroom and held the paper close to his face. With growing dismay, he made out the two photos in the front page, their faces blurred by the wet paper and the top headline in bold letters: "Sorcerers strike: prepare the stake!" He sat up and started reading, his hand tightening further on the page, crumpling the paper without realizing it.

"Bloody photos..." Draco grumbled back in the room, rubbing his dripping hair with a fresh towel. "Like common ex-convicts..."

He flung the wet towel on the chair next to the window then pushed the curtain open to peer outside. Behind him, Harry dropped the paper and a smirk bloomed on his face.

"I'm sure you'd look good as a brunet."

Draco's hand snapped on his nape as if hit, then he flashed Harry a disbelieving look over his shoulder, a lopsided grin at the corner of his lips.

"No one touches my hair, it's my trademark!"

The turn of mood made Harry smile in turn. Glad that his joke had relieved some of the tension, he got up with a dramatic sigh and a quick retort,

"Hm, well your trademark will get us spotted."

The teasing voice didn't escape Draco who turned to face him with a roguish look. He strutted toward Harry with a playful, arrogant stance.

"You think I'm stupid enough to get us caught like that?"

Harry cocked his head and arched a doubtful brow with the sole purpose of provoking him. It worked. Draco jerked his head back with false shock and straightened up. Their bright eyes locked together, mischief for mischief. It felt so easy and natural to fall back into their playful banter, as if nothing had changed between them. Draco held his stare a few more seconds.

"You're so full of shit," he said and then chuckled lightly.

Harry let out a short laugh. It was nice to rediscover this sense of connivance. Under Draco's overconfident stare, he kept the same incredulous expression.

"So?"

"So, I'll simply rely on my natural charm and sense of repartee. It's never failed me, why would it now? We'll simply have to be discrete. You think you can manage that?"

Draco was passing him the buck.

Harry chuckled to himself, grabbed the newspaper and threw it at the blonde who caught it instantly. A quick exchange of sly stares and grins then Draco turned his head away, all mirth gone from his face. Harry's smile fell in response. The comedy had to end eventually. Reality always came back to bite you, no matter how hard you denied or tried to hide from it.

Draco parted the curtain again and without turning urged Harry up.

"Come on, get ready, we have a long day ahead."

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry was on high alert, taking in every person crossing them on their way out: the hotelkeeper with her small dark eyes, sly behind their glasses, the awkward looking client fidgeting in the hall. They were taking a risk just showing their faces and Harry felt awfully exposed. He walked stiffly, involuntarily darting his eyes left and right. Draco was better at hiding his discomfort but Harry knew him well enough to see the awareness behind the cold exterior. Fortunately their concern was unfounded and they managed to leave without problem.

With his helmet donned, Draco was hardly recognizable on his motorbike. Harry climbed behind him and they rode off to visit Draco's mysterious friend. It only took a few minutes to reach the meeting place. Harry was surprised to discover an old decrepit country house with a large brass plate reading "Weeping Willow House". A rest-home.

Upon entering the bleak looking house, Harry felt oppressed by the heavy silence and the off-putting smell emanating. He shivered, unable to warm himself up despite the heating. The reception desk was empty but not for long. A small brunette in a white uniform came with hurried steps. She crouched behind the desk and picked up the phone to dial a number, blatantly ignoring them.

Draco was not a man to be dismissed.

"Miss," he said.

She granted him a quick glance then asked, "Yes?" the phone's handset tucked between her cheek and shoulder.

Another voice resounded somewhere in the far corner of the room and a corpulent woman joined the first nurse.

A big sigh then, "Mrs Park wet her bed again. The third time in a month, and each time on my duty days! I swear she's doing it on purpose! I'm telling you, I'm going to put her in pads."

The woman turned her head to stare at Harry who turned away self-consciously. Why were they taking so many risks? Wouldn't it have been simpler to meet at the man's home? His thoughts soon faded when he heard the name uttered by Draco.

"Terence Higgs. Could you please tell him a friend is here to see him?"

So it was him, the providential friend. Another former Slytherin. Strange how they all kept connected, as if a special link united them. Still, there had to be an explanation. How could they have possibly stayed together while all the wizards, families, friends, had been dispersed throughout the country. The Weasleys had spent months gathering their family. They had been lucky to be together when the black hole had appeared, changing their lives forever, but even then they had been separated, delivered to different "Welcome Centres". Molly had found death alone, away from her husband and children.

In this chaos, what had brought the Slytherins back together?

"He's on shift," the nurse responded with an annoyed air that seemed to be her natural expression. "You can't just show up like this during working hours."

She shared an exasperated look with the second nurse who left to attend to her business.

Harry smiled when he saw Draco lean on the desk toward the nurse, his hands crossed on the panel, a soft smile that seemed reserved only for her. The natural charm and repartee in action. The woman's face was melting already.

_Handsome devil._

"Of course, of course…" he crooned with an apologetic air. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you, I know you're very busy. I have a lot of respect for your work. My mother used to work in a hospital."

Harry muffled a chortle.

"Really?" the woman asked with an affected voice. She was listening fully to him, her call now forgotten.

"Yes, for thirty years." Draco answered with a toothy smile. "Listen, I wouldn't disturb you if it wasn't important, but it's a family matter."

The woman put the phone down and pouted.

"If you'd be as kind to go and fetch him for me. I'd really appreciate it."

The woman checked behind her then looked at him under her lashes.

"Alright. But don't keep him long."

Draco smiled and winked at her. "Thank you, darling."

The woman stood with all the grace she could master and left but not without a backward glance.

"Smooth," Harry mocked.

Draco put his hands in his pockets, made a little twirl to face him and shrugged.

The nurse came back a minute later, a young man in tow. Of average build, he had a baby face, chestnut hair and eyes, a relaxed attitude and an air that inspired trust. As soon as he caught sight of Draco, his face brightened up and he hurried to meet him.

"Eh!" he said, catching the blonde in a warm hug. "I was not expecting you till next week."

Draco smiled at him and looked sideways. "We had a few glitches," he whispered.

"Yes?" Higgs frowned.

The man seemed so engrossed in Draco that Harry had to step forward to make himself known. He outstretched his hand.

"Hello! Terence Higgs…"

The aforementioned finally turned to him, shock painted on his face.

Harry's hand stayed suspended. Feeling awkward he eventually lowered it. Higgs had still to speak up. When it didn't happen either, Harry took the initiative.

"I remember you. Catcher, first year."

"Harry Potter…" Higgs mused to himself and his eyes lifted to the brunet's forehead. Harry didn't appreciate the attention. The way Higgs stepped back from him was even more disturbing.

"This is a surprise," Higgs muttered before turning to Draco with a questioning look. He didn't press the issue but his uneasiness was palpable.

The young man's reaction cast a chill in the already gloomy hall. Fortunately, Draco kept his casual demeanour.

"I tried to reach you to explain. It's complicated," he began. "All you have to know is that we're in the same boat. The McCarthy affair has recently reached new heights, but you may have already heard about it on the news."

Higgs frowned.

"I'm working here from six in the morning, doing double shifts more often than not. And with the other thing…" he added with a knowing look. "Often I can't even remember which day it is. Why? What's going on?"

Draco tilted his head aside. "Lead the way," he simply said.

Higgs nodded and led them to a small room.

Harry entered through the door and closed it behind them. The room was clearly occupied: a woollen sweater was hung on a chair, a book of stamps lay open on the desk. There was a bed in the corner with... a man in it.

Harry staggered back. "What-"

He looked at Draco with wide eyes but the latter seemed unfazed by the presence of this stranger in the room, leaning casually against the window frame while informing Higgs of the recent events. Harry turned his attention back to the bedridden man. It was an old frail man, his bony body swallowed by the bed, his face still and pale as death, the weak rise and fall of his chest the only sign he was still alive.

Harry stayed on the threshold, reluctant to trespass into the privacy of the elderly resident.

"What are we doing here?" he whispered, bending forward to be heard.

"You can speak up, he's brain dead," Higgs said, avoiding his eyes. "Well, not brain dead, unresponsive is more like it, but he might as well be."

Harry shook his head and pursed his lips, shocked by his offhand manner.

"What? But wh- Who is this man?" he whispered again, even though the man couldn't possibly hear him.

"Malcolm Schine," Higgs answered, still unable to meet his eyes.

He didn't give more explanation and Harry's nerves were getting frayed. The man was acting like he didn't want him to be here and while he could understand his presence was surprising, the man had no reason to dismiss him this way. It led Harry to form a few unpleasant theories he didn't want to think about.

Prompted by Draco's waiting look, Higgs felt compelled to elaborate.

"He used to be Division 8's Head Surgeon. A great man, oh he loved his job. You see, he liked to experiment on his patients, his favourite hobby was vivisection," he elaborated while quietly smoothing the man's sheet. "And he used to bring trophies back home. A pretty collection of jars: tongues, kidneys, hearts… The bastard wasn't picky," he said with an acerbic tone. "Unfortunately for him, he had a stroke two years ago. They sent him back to his hometown to get some rest." He loomed over the old man's wrinkled face with a mocking smile. "The poor thing was getting incoherent and confused so I came to help and lend him a friendly ear. I might have pushed him a bit too hard I'm afraid." Higgs shrugged. Just like that.

Harry gasped despite himself. It mesmerized him how these men could dispose of people with a snap of the fingers. The mere expression on the man's face, exuding a sense of pride and contentment of a job well done… It was something Harry could never fake.

"We found his trail last winter." Draco said. "Terence kindly accepted a move down here and took the place of his appointed nurse."

What had happened to the former nurse was pointedly left unsaid and Harry wasn't fool enough to ask. He got the gist.

"Thanks to him, we collected precious information about the Division's Centres, the way they operate inside. Mostly gruesome details, but we got a few names too."

Harry lifted a hopeful face to Draco but the blonde shook his head.

"None that you know I'm afraid." He turned to Higgs. "What you got already?"

"Two people that might be of interest: Peter Cohn, a consultant who had trouble with the Centre's new direction. He's still active, but barely. And the former chairman who got sacked, Dieter Anderson."

Harry turned his head sharply. "You mean you know- You know where they are."

Higgs took the cue to hold out a piece of paper to Draco, a content expression on his juvenile face. "Cohn's address, like I promised. I checked it, it's safe. And not too far from here. Anderson's a bit harder to find but I know where his nephew is. Might be worth further investigation."

Harry walked away, suddenly preoccupied. He opted to look instead at the old dog-eared photos pinned on the wall next to a small wooden cross. The few memories of a lifetime. The achievements, the joys and pains. Regrets.

When he met Draco's searching eyes, he tried to relax. To shut off all the warning bells ringing in his head.

"They're undesirables, so they're mostly out the loop and they're bitter, so they're more likely to let a few indiscretions slip," Draco added for Harry's benefit.

He pocketed the paper and thanked Higgs.

"You did great." He smiled but it fell and he lowered his head for a second. "There's something else." He paused to look him in the eye. "I didn't want to involve you in this business more than necessary, but the situation with the Elders is out of control. I need someone over in London, someone who'll be under their radar."

The news distracted Harry from his thoughts. It also brought a surge of sympathy for the man. Harry knew first hand how dangerous and intense infiltrations were and it couldn't be easy for Higgs. Therefore, Higgs' reaction took him by surprise. The man seemed glad. He straightened up and held his head high, visibly proud to hear Draco was entrusting him. Draco grabbed his bag, opened it and took out a thick black folder. He held it out to Higgs.

"It's everything I could gather about the League's activities and their associates. You need to study it. They're weakened and they're out for revenge, they'll go over you with a fine-tooth comb. I need you to be extra prepared on this one. The Elders will track all my contacts. You're the only one they won't see coming."

Draco took a step forward and put a hand on Higgs shoulder.

"I know it's a lot to ask you but I have no choice. I need someone inside to warn me about their plans and what's going on there."

Draco's eyes weren't begging, nothing displaying the fact that he was cornered. His attitude was one of a leader waiting for his soldier to accomplish his duty. And Higgs didn't disappoint.

"I'm your man Draco," he promptly said, eyes shining with determination. "You can count on me."

Draco smiled and tapped him on the shoulder.

"I was getting sick of this town anyway," Higgs added jokingly.

Draco raised his brows sympathetically and then looked down at his wet jacket and shirt. He pulled at his collar with a disgusted face.

"You don't happen to have spare clothes, do you?"

"Actually, I have better," Higgs smiled.

When they were out the door, Draco took Higgs aside and Harry was left alone in the corridor. He observed the two men's interaction, the ease with which they talked and the way they bantered like old friends. It was a bitter realization that Harry didn't really fit in the picture, he didn't belong. He was an oddity in Draco's path, with no proper role. A misfit.

Harry twisted, letting his eyes wander around, and caught sight of a small dining room behind open doors. He walked up and stopped in the doorway. Worn stuffed seats, long tables covered with plastic sheet. A few inmates were gathered in small groups, chatting with tired voices. Some in more precarious states, in wheelchairs or other metal contraptions, were aligned in front of a TV, eyes vacant or talking to themselves. The medical staff came and went, talking amongst themselves too loudly, the telly barely audible over the sound of their voices.

In the midst of their distant presence, a man suddenly captured Harry's stare. His eyes were clear and his brows dark, a striking look. He was sitting in a chair, a newspaper spread across his lap. Harry's blood froze when he recognized today's Times. The man was scrutinizing him and his lips opened slightly, a tremor in them. There was no doubt he had identified him. Alarmed, Harry began to step away from the doors, the man following him with his eyes. But then Draco and Higgs were already crossing the room, unaware of the situation. Harry grabbed Draco's arm just as the old man started lifting a trembling finger toward them.

"We're spotted!" Harry whispered in the blonde's ear.

Draco followed his look and saw the man trying to get up on his wobbly legs. He stiffened and hurried his steps, Higgs and Harry following close. Then a nurse noticed the old man's agitation. She came to his aid but it was obvious she wasn't making any effort to understand his incoherent babbling, coaxing him back to his chair and soothing him.

Harry let out a relieved breath and the three disappeared into the main hall. They were outside the entrance in a second. Draco squeezed Harry's arm.

"You always worry for nothing," he said derisively.

"Right, it's not like we were this close to being recognized," Harry retorted.

Draco smiled. "Come on, let's get out of here." Then he turned to Higgs. "You mentioned a lodge, right?"

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Deep in the woods, a two-story log cabin stood. The smell of the pines was sharp and refreshing, the sky so open, as vast as the sea. The twigs snapped under their steps as the three men made their way to the porch. Higgs unlocked and pushed the resisting door open with his shoulder. The air was humid and the room was dark, the furniture covered by sheets. Harry dropped his bag on the low table next to him and started pulling the sheets off, coughing at the dust. As Higgs opened the shutters, the room brightened up to reveal a cosy living-room. The robust wood furniture seemed hand-crafted, few decorations, two still life paintings on the wall, a large velvet couch and a mismatched armchair next to the fireplace, a brownish chequered carpet in the middle. It looked comfortable enough.

The first question that came to Harry's mind was the identity of the lodge owner. The place wasn't Higgs' style. The man struck him as self-important, clever, modern, someone who liked to surround himself with nice things. The cabin looked like it belonged to an old-fashioned person, rustic and simple. And Higgs was definitely not a simple man. Had he borrowed the place? Stolen the key? -Got rid of the owner?

It was no use asking when he didn't want to know the answer.

Harry searched for Draco but he had disappeared into the small kitchen near the stairway. Harry could hear the water running in the sink. So he put his hands in his pockets and turned to Higgs. They were alone. As good an opportunity as any to talk. But, as if sensing Harry was about to be disturb him, Higgs took his leave and flew upstairs. The brunet comically pinched his lips at the rebuttal.

So it was going to be like that… Fair enough.

Harry followed his path up the stairs to the upper floor. The first door led to a small bathroom with peach coloured tiles. No sign of Higgs. The following door was half-opened on a large white bed covered with a tartan plaid. A silhouette crossed the small opening and vanished again. Harry pushed the door open wide to see Higgs pull several pieces of clothing out of drawers and spread them on the bed. Harry leaned against the door-frame and contemplated leaving the man to his task, but curiosity got the better of him.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked without preamble.

Higgs' head snapped around in surprise, but he looked back at the bed as quickly.

"No, I'm just sorting this out," he said, inspecting his findings.

Harry crossed his arms on his chest, determined to have his answer.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

Higgs chuckled, folding and unfolding the clothes in front of him. He made two neat piles and collected the remaining clothes in his arms. Harry was starting to think it was the only answer he would get.

"You're a surprise, that's all" the man suddenly said, still busy at task.

Harry quirked up an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak but Higgs was speaking again.

"You used to hate each others guts, right? And now you're here, that's surprising."

"I guess so," Harry said, uncertain of what to answer to that. It was a long story after all.

"Draco never mentioned you once. That's surprising too." Higgs put back the clothes he was holding inside the drawers and continued, "Now I understand why. You're the skeleton in the closet."

Harry frowned at the interesting choice of words, unable to discern if the man was suspicious, inquisitive or something else entirely. The man was hard to read. Harry wondered what his story was. The obvious admiration he bore toward Draco hinted to a real friendship. Or a mentorship perhaps? He only hoped there wasn't more to it.

"Have you been working with him for a long time?" he asked.

"Oh yes, we've come a long way. From the early days, when it was just us. And Blaise too."

"Then why weren't you part of the Organization?"

"Flint happened."

The name stabbed Harry like a knife, cruel reminder of an unpunished crime. Once the shock wore off, confusion settled in. Flint had integrated the group without a fuss, welcomed as a friend and a brother in arms. It didn't make sense.

"What did he have to do-"

"Then there were rumours about Lucius and the Elders…" Higgs cut off, pushing the drawers shut. "I preferred to step down."

"Too risky?" Harry retorted without thinking.

Higgs finally turned to look straight at him.

"No, I felt it was time to go. Flint was bad news, I knew it," he said, shaking his head. "I knew it the moment I saw him. I mean all the signs were there. I don't believe in coincidence, not at all. I told them we should just stay like we were, and we were doing so great, but nobody listened to me, and look what happened, huh? I hit the nail right on the head."

Harry kept silent. What had happened to Flint was not something he wanted to revisit. At least he was glad Higgs didn't know about his involvement with McCarthy. Then Harry had to draw back: Higgs had just put his hand on the chest of drawers and was leaning forward to speak.

"Times like this, you have to be a bit selfish and save yourself, you know?"

If he was waiting for some approval, he would be disappointed. Harry sidestepped the issue and cut to the chase,

"But you and Draco kept in touch. Obviously."

"Yes, in the shadows," Higgs answered with a smile as if privy to a joke Harry didn't know. "I was just waiting for the right opportunity. I was sure Draco would seek me out again."

Maybe it was the tone in which he had spoken or the way he was looking right now, like he had some private agenda, but Harry didn't like the sound of it at all. He jolted out of his musings when Draco shouldered him softly and made his way inside.

"So, we can finally get rid of these rags," he said, looking between the two men.

It put an abrupt end to the strange exchange, and Harry was none the wiser.

Higgs turned cheerful again and held out a pile of clothes to the blonde.

"Here, I hope they fit."

Harry was left behind to pick his clothes off the bed himself.

Without concern Draco started to undress in front of them but Harry preferred to retire to the bathroom, if only to take a break from Higgs. When he put on his clothes, memories of his childhood flashed back: the worn jeans were two sizes too big, the hem hanging low on the floor and covering his shoes, while the shapeless sweatshirt seemed to swallow him.

He dragged his feet back to the bedroom and caught sight of Draco, hidden behind the open wardrobe door, buttoning his cuffs while staring ahead at what must be a mirror. The grey tweed trousers fell perfectly over his Italian shoes, a fitted blue navy sweater completing the outfit. A tad less sophisticated than what he was used to wearing but tasteful nonetheless.

Harry expected no less. Higgs had a great sense of humour.

Draco finally took notice of Harry and his sour mood. Standing at the door frame, hands on his hips with his overlarge clothes, the brunet looked like a child. Higgs held back a laugh, covering his mouth with his fist and then shrugged with a sorry expression.

"That's the best I could find. I thought that old Gerald's clothes would suit you. The man's pocket size. It's-" He let out a strangled chuckle. "I can't believe he's taller than you! It's an honest mistake."

Harry glared at him. Meanwhile, Draco was staring at him with softened eyes and a little smile. The way Harry grumbled while trying to pull up the trousers that were sliding from his waist was endearing and so he moved closer to help him. He pushed Harry's hand away and took off his own leather belt. He slid it on the loops and tightened it well, Harry letting himself be manipulated with coyness. Draco then rolled up the sleeves into neat thick cuffs.

"There," he said, then he ran a hand in Harry's hair, the brunet looking all lost and shy all of a sudden. Harry swallowed, moved by the intimate touch, so unexpected in the light of the recent events. But it couldn't last. Draco moved his hand and turned his attention back to a disgruntled Higgs. The man was quick to monopolize the blonde's attention and keep him away from Harry. They had plans to make for Higgs' forthcoming departure.

An hour later, Draco told him the man had left to pack his things. That was good.

Draco added he was ready to go for Cohn. Immediately. That was - not so good.

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They took to the road again. A few miles in they had slowed down, Harry leaned closer to Draco and shouted to make himself heard.

"What's going on with Higgs?" A beat, then when he heard nothing back, "You can't tell me you haven't noticed? He's acting all strange with me." Draco slightly turned his head.

"You're making him nervous," he answered through his half-open visor.

Harry's face wrinkled, eyes shut against the wind.

"Why?"

"You're Harry Potter, the chosen one. And you're Harry Potter, the one through whom the black hole appeared."

Harry hadn't expected that, but then it made sense. His peers would always see him that way. The cursed boy. He lowered his head, the lonely sound of the roaring engine filling the air again.

"The thing you have to know is Terence is superstitious. That's his way of coping I guess."

"He thinks I'm bad luck," Harry muttered, his head hanging dully, jolted left and right by the motorbike's movements.

"Something like that."

There was a beat, Harry's head filling with sombre memories, accusing stares, whispers and cruel words. Then Draco's voice rang again.

"Don't mind him, he's a fool."

Harry leaned against Draco's back and took comfort in these simple words.

Let's not think. Oblivion had always been his best partner.

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An hour later, it was raining again. They arrived in front of a small red brick house. It was a remote and isolated place, no other homes within sight. A badly kept garden with unsightly patches of weeds. The place seemed empty. Draco knocked at the door once. Twice. Thrice. No one answered. They waited again, soaked to the bone, their hair dripping wet. Draco knocked harder. Not a sound, there was no one.

He lifted his head to examine the windows. There were no signs of life. Draco gestured for Harry to take a look around, but while he was backing up, a movement upstairs caught Harry's attention. The curtain had twitched. With a detached affect, he came close to Draco and whispered, the movement of his lips imperceptible,

"He's up there."

Draco stared at Harry with intent then walked away. Now in front of his motorbike, he grabbed his helmet and climbed on.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, but Draco only strapped his helmet and tilted his head for him to come.

The brunet frowned and started to argue again but Draco cut him off.

"Let's go," he said to him.

So he followed suit.

Draco started the engine and rode off, a confused Harry behind him. He turned to take the little track running behind the house, pretending to leave the scene, but a few meters further away, he stopped the motorbike and parked it next to a tall fir tree. He tapped Harry's knee and hopped off.

"Come on."

They both walked back to the edge of the woods. From their spot, they had a pretty good view of the back of the house. They observed the premises attentively, the rain lashing their faces, their shoes sticking to the muddy ground. Harry looked up toward the first floor window to make sure the man wasn't surveying the grounds. They kept their position for a few minutes, freezing to death but determined not to blow the opportunity. Then they made their move.

Draco ran toward the house, half-hunched, Harry not far behind, and slunk stealthily toward the downstairs windows. He crouched down, glanced upwards then raised his hands to push up the first window frame, hoping it would open. No luck though. His next try on the second window was no better.

Harry, who had stayed behind to check the garage door, joined him. He put his hands against the brick wall and propped himself up, catching sight of the living-room and looked down at the thick dusty carpet. He turned his head to speak to Draco but the blonde was already moving toward the corner to inspect the rest. Harry bit his lips, hopping sideway, then made his decision. He took off his down-padded jacket and wound it around his hand into a glove. Protecting his face with the other, he hit the window with a sharp blow, the shards of glass falling without making too loud a noise. He brushed off the broken pieces that had fallen on him and called out for Draco in a breathy, low voice. Then he snaked his arm through the hole to unlock the latch and lifted the sash-window. Draco was behind him when he put his jacket back on.

"A real burglar! You seem to have some practice there..." the blonde whispered. "Not so innocent after all, the little Potter."

Harry elbowed him and looked away. Easy to see what Draco was implying there. But it was no time for trivialities. Harry gripped the window frame and vaulted inside.

He landed softly on the carpet, the thick pile muffling his steps, and he made room for Draco. He looked down: his dirty shoes had left muddy prints on the floor. The room was dimly lit, the decoration quaint with porcelain ornaments, decorated plates suspended on the walls and ancient upholstered armchairs. A dusty atmosphere. Draco joined Harry slowly, his movements measured and controlled. He poked the brunet but Harry's eyes were fixated on the hall.

Cohn was standing there, still and solid on his feet. A balding man in his late fifties, with rough features and piercing dark eyes. His mouth was trembling, not with fear but with rage. The man seemed ready to kick them out. Draco raised his hands in the air to prove his good intentions.

"We're not here to hurt you, we only need information."

The man narrowed his eyes, two black pools filled with hate, the promise of a fight. Harry knew instantly it was bound to turn ugly.

"I have nothing to tell you! Get the hell out of here or I'll call the police," he barked with a throaty voice.

The tone was harsh and Cohn had this stubborn expression that left no place for hope. Draco cut short the man's exhortations by pulling his gun out with a sharp move. He aimed it straight at the man who, unimpressed, stood his ground.

"What do you want?" he spat, shooting daggers at them.

Draco was a perceptive man. He knew how to gauge his adversaries, and this one was tough and dangerous. So Draco decided to get straight to the point.

"Information about Division 8 and McCarthy."

The other didn't bat an eyelash.

"I've got nothing to tell you," he retorted dryly.

Draco titled his head aside, mockingly naïve.

"Oh yeah? I could have sworn you worked as a consultant at the Division's Centre?"

Cohn took a step forward, his eyes narrowing.

"Wait, I recognize you…" he said with vicious spite. "Of course. Yes, you're like them… those monsters."

The guy was getting cocky, his confidence growing as he observed them with a new contempt, his face reflecting loathing and disgust. Unconsciously or not, the man held his chin high, asserting an unwarranted superiority over them. It was easy to feel diminished under his scrutiny and Harry winced. He hated this feeling, as if his mere presence was unnatural, like a pariah. His hands balled into fists and out the corner of his eye, he saw Draco tense too.

The blonde's jaw worked but his hold on his gun didn't waver. Then a dark chuckle escaped his lips. Harry frowned. He never knew what to expect with Draco and a shiver coursed up his spine, a mix of fear and thrill.

Draco's eyes were riveted to the man's porcine face, bearing the same intensity. No intimidation, no hesitation.

"Don't provoke me, I'm this close to putting a hole in your head, so be smart and talk."

Cohn eyed him a few seconds, silently assessing the situation. Draco wasn't joking, that much was obvious. The man's lips twirled in a snarl.

"I don't know this McCarthy, you're looking in the wrong place."

"Bullshit, we know you worked for him," Draco snapped back.

Cohn was unmoved. "So? I don't know where he is." He didn't even wince, no sign on his face that he had been caught lying. "For all I know, he's dead."

"Yes?" Draco said with a tilt of his head. "Well my friend here saw him just a few days ago. You want to change your answer?"

Cohn's face was stony, the corner of his lips frozen in a perpetual sneer that spoke of a lifetime of hardship and coldness.

"We know he kept in touch with the Division, and you're fully aware of it."

Silence met his words. Draco's face tensed and the bullet fired straight forward. It hit the wall right next to Cohn's head. The man started, arms jerking up protectively. Harry hadn't seen it coming himself. His head snapped around to face Draco: the blonde was looking deadly, his face hard and his eyes wide.

"Spit it out before I lose patience!" he barked, his jaw open.

The sudden outburst did the trick. Something in Cohn's face gave, and he finally spoke.

"McCarthy brought us nothing but trouble! We never had any control over him! A man who can't be tamed is a dangerous one." He glared pointedly at Draco. A wicked smile sprung to his lips. Harry shuddered at the sight. "If he's after you, then you're already dead."

The sadistic pleasure on the pig's face and the way he was looking at them as if he had already won was nauseating. Harry averted his eyes, then suddenly Draco was moving. Harry instinctively stepped forward, hands spread out to hold him back but he knew it was Draco's call and he couldn't interfere. In two strides, Draco was nose to nose with Cohn. He brutally caught the man's nape with his free hand and shoved him against the wall, face first.

"Keep your warnings to yourself, Cohn," he hissed, leaning on his back, the gun pressed against his balding skull. "_You're_ the dead man walking. _You're_ the one on the wrong end of the gun." He pushed the barrel against the man's cheek to stress his words. "Tell me how to contact the bastard."

Harry's whole body was taut, straining to act. He watched the exchange attentively, ready to intervene if anything got out of hand. Then the other burst into an evil laugh, his nose pressed against the tapestry, his arms crushed by Draco's body.

"Nobody contacts him, he's the one who comes to you," he coughed, his body sagging. "The Division destroyed all the files after his dismissal, they made him disappear. McCarthy's just a shadow, you will never find him."

Unsatisfied by the answer, Draco pushed his gun harder against his face, the barrel digging a hollow in his cheek. "I don't believe you arsehole!" His head was pressing against the man's, his fingers digging deep in the thick neck.

A part of Harry wanted to put and end to this, but another was mesmerized by Draco's display of power. Wrapped against Cohn, he was trapping him, dominating him completely.

"I want all you have on the Division, all the names, all the files. And don't even think about double crossing me 'cause I'm itching to erase the smirk from your ugly mug."

Cohn was resilient but he knew a real threat when he heard one. He nodded in way of surrender. So Draco let him go, slowly, gun still aimed. The man held his hands up and shook his head to signify there was nothing to fear.

Draco lowered his gun. "Speak."

Cohn turned to Harry and glared at him spitefully, his narrowed eyes like two black holes trying to suck him in.

"I will give you nothing," he said with a cutting voice. "You're disgusting, nothing but miserable cockroaches that need to be squashed."

Harry closed in on himself, his face void of expression, struck by the cruel diatribe.

Cohn smiled smugly when he turned to Draco.

"Yes, you should be dead, all of you. If it were not for the mercy of our government you'd be left rotting on the streets," he drawled in a monotone as if he were chanting psalms. "I will rejoice in the day you are all exterminated."

Draco withstood his gaze evenly, apparently unconcerned. The man kept talking, the words spilling from his mouth like an endless stream.

"You can threaten me, you can torture me, you will get nothing! I'd rather die than help you lot!"

Harry looked from left to right: in the corner, the hateful man with his pitiless, despicable air, and in front of him, Draco fearless, standing straight, gun in hand. There would be no deals, no discussion here. Cohn gave them no leeway. The man was an extremist, his words no different from the anti-wizards groups' speeches back in the early days.

Cohn snickered, his stomach grumbling in synch. He was proud of himself, the bastard. Suddenly, Draco staggered back and turned his head away. His posture was taut and still, like a dark statue in the hall. Looking at his stiff back, Harry wondered whether the blonde felt as distraught as him at this moment. He wished he could see his face, see a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but there was only a mute anonymous silhouette. On the opposite side, the poor excuse for a man with his foolish smile did not disturb the silence either and time seemed to stop. The blonde's neck moved, like a jump in a still frame, his head tilted up as if he were staring at the wall. Strangely enough the first thing that came to Harry's mind was how elegant and serene this man had grown to be. It took only the tick of a clock, like a well oiled mechanism: Draco's head snapped back to Cohn, his arm lifted up and he shot. Three moves, no flourish.

A trickle of blood splattered Harry's hand, sliding like a drop of sweat along his finger. Cohn had only a second to realize what had happened before the impact, his eyes widening briefly before losing their light. Harry's mouth opened. A sharp intake of breath. His eyes half closed in a daze. The man collapsed to the floor on his hip, the bullet between his eyes while Draco stood, arm raised still, his posture impeccable, the smoking gun in his hand.

"You got your wish," Draco whispered to the dead man.

Harry was standing there, his arms hanging at his sides. He hadn't reacted, stunned by the sudden act.

"You're crazy," he muttered the first words that came to mind.

It must be a nightmare. Surely there were other ways to end this!

Draco tucked his gun back in his waistband and crouched down to look at the dead man's face. The action pulled Harry out of his torpor at once.

"What have you done?" he shouted, stepping forward and gesturing helplessly toward the dead body slumped against the wall. "He wasn't even- He was unarmed! I- Shit."

Draco stood up, refusing to acknowledge Harry, but the latter wouldn't let this go, determined to get some sense into that thick skull of his.

"What the hell is wrong with you? How do you expect to get answers now? Huh? You're- Arrrg, you're insane!"

His words were ineffective. Draco left the room and climbed upstairs without a backward glance. Harry paced at the foot of the staircase, only a few steps away from Cohn's body, slowly digesting this new drama. To be confronted by Draco's dark side again was a blow to the heart. Perhaps this was all there was to him: violence and death. Unfettered. No redemption for the wicked.

The fog blurring his mind cleared as noises from upstairs reached him. A last glance to the gruesome stain of blood and – what was it? A piece of brain or flesh - on the wall and he was running up the stairs to join Draco.

He found him in a dark study, half bent over a chair, rummaging around in papers on the desk.

"You don't care one bit, do you?" he snapped.

The blonde didn't grace him with an answer, his eyes hidden by the curtain of his hair, opening drawer after drawer. A photo of two boys in their teenage years was knocked over onto the desk and the sight made his stomach turn. Draco stood, a thick folder in his hand, and with the other he grabbed a large satchel left by the chair.

"You didn't have to do it," Harry began but Draco was already out the door.

He rushed down the stairs, his remote attitude told the brunet he had no intention of discussing this. Harry trailed behind him, his shoes tapping against the hall parquet, an almost manic glint in his eyes.

"There were other ways…"

Draco turned deaf ears to him. He searched the jacket that was hanging on the back of the door, pocketed a wallet and walked out the house, leaving the door open for Harry. The latter outstretched his hands in confusion, mouth open and eyebrows knitted together. He darted an eye toward the crime scene and reached the door, forced to follow his companion.

Outside, Draco strapped the satchel securely to the motorbike's storage box with a long cable, swathing it with plastic to protect it from the rain.

"You're just going to leave the place without so much as a by your leave?" Harry asked, advancing slowly toward him, bemusement in his voice.

Draco pulled hard on the cable to make sure it would hold and finally spoke up.

"The old man lived in the sticks, a loner. They probably won't notice his absence for days, weeks even. And we'll be far away by then. "

Draco climbed on the motorcycle and finally met Harry's eyes.

"Come on, hop on," he said with a tilt of the head. Harry took the opportunity to take a good look at him, hoping to find a new depth there, a weakness, something that would tell him there was still hope for him. But Draco was his usual laidback self. There was no emotion, simply urgency to go and that unnerved Harry more than he could say. Compared to his, Harry's face was an open book, disappointment clear in his eyes. The motor kept running, heightening the ambient tension.

Draco snickered but somehow it didn't come out right. There was finally some uneasiness there.

"He would have never talked. I know his kind."

His words didn't seem to convince Harry, who stood rigid, his eyes reproachful.

"What would you have done in my place? Beat him into submission? Tie him up and lock him in his bedroom?" the blonde asked with a twisted laugh. "And then what? He was too dangerous. Even if I let him live, a bastard like him would never leave us in peace."

No response. Harry's stare didn't waver, silently judging him. Draco's mouth pucked up and with a rough twist of the wrist, he turned off the ignition and dismounted the bike.

"You heard him same as I did!" he yelled, swinging an arm with irritation. "This guy was a bloody extremist! We don't need another fanatic on our tail!"

Harry shook his head. "You didn't even hesitate."

His voice was low but Draco heard him loud and clear. He advanced toward Harry, widening his eyes to emphasize the point.

"Do you want us to get caught? You want McCarthy to find and kill us? He's a rogue agent, and he will use whatever means to wipe us out! He doesn't play fair, I won't either." Harry turned his face away, trying to escape the conversation, but Draco didn't let him go and moved to catch his gaze with a fierce stare.

"Hey!"

Harry turned back to him, his chin lifted, defiant. Draco kept his eyes levelled.

"It's a dangerous game, but you knew that from the beginning. We're in this mess together." Draco's jaw worked, their eyes still connected, focused. "Now will you help me?" he asked softly.

They stood face to face, their breaths even. Draco held Harry's stare for a pregnant moment. An invisible barrier stood between them, no way to penetrate it. Something had closed off behind the green eyes and Draco couldn't reach him, no matter how hard he tried. He was smart enough to realize it would go nowhere so he dejectedly broke the contact and got back on his motorbike.

"I don't expect you to understand," he said starting the engine again.

Harry blinked. Irreconcilable differences, the mostly common grounds for divorce, wasn't it? The point where the gap was just too big to bridge, things irreparably broken. So what was he trying to achieve by attaching himself to Draco? Why couldn't he let it go?

The motor was still running, Draco patiently waiting for the brunet to join him. So Harry did.

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When they got back to the lodge, Harry and Draco kept their distance, silent, deep in thought. The place looked so still and quiet, and Harry was afraid that their refuge would turn into a new prison. The cohabitation threatened to be difficult.

Draco took off his jacket with a sigh. Harry stayed in the doorway, watching the blonde's silhouette retreat further into the living-room and seat itself in the armchair. Hunched there, next to the fireplace with the old mantle clock and its frozen hands, he looked like an elderly man, prisoner of time. Like an aged picture. Obsolete.

Weren't they all?

Harry entered and closed the door. An umpteenth fight would lead them nowhere so Harry decided to get down to business.

"What did you find?"

Draco caught the shoulder strap that lay on the floor and pulled on it. The satchel slid to his feet and he opened it. He drew out two big folders onto the table, several business cards, notebooks, Cohn's wallet, and the piece de resistance, his laptop.

"Let's hope McCarthy is somewhere in there," he said.

Harry opened the large hard cover folder: notes about the operations, scientific data with diagrams and analysis Harry couldn't decipher, statistics, forms about the patients, the procedures, medical and "criminal" records, all the infractions, the history of the dangerous cases… A few parts were blacked out as if Cohn had been kept in the dark too, but all in all, these documents were gold. Harry grabbed a bundle of photos and turned it to discover with dread the snapshot of an emaciated body covered with scars. He flipped the next one: another body almost unrecognizable with all the tubes and electrodes connected to it. The next one was a close up of gruesome scar tissue. Harry's hands trembled now, unveiling a true theatre of horrors, all the pictures equally horrid: mutilated limbs, faces with empty and hallucinated eyes… it was too much to take, too appalling to comprehend. Harry's body started to shake uncontrollably. He let the photos fall from his hands and ran to the kitchen just in time to throw up in the sink. He retched and heaved, his eyes filling with tears. He coughed and turned the tap on, his forearm against his cold forehead, eyes lost in the stainless steel.

_Remus._

What had they done to him?

The idea that his friend might have gone through the same horrendous operations was unbearable. When they had freed him the first time, the man had been scarred, mentally, physically, but there had still been fight in him. Harry was afraid it wouldn't be the case the second time around. They would try to break him, utterly. It was notoriously known that the Division's Centres had intensified their regime under the new management. He had to be prepared for the worst.

Harry cupped his hands under the water, swallowed, gurgled and spat. Once the sink was clean, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and ambled into the living-room.

The moment he appeared, Draco quickly turned his eyes back to Cohn's open laptop.

"You all right?" he asked, badly hiding his concern.

"Yeah," Harry croaked out. He cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

Better focus on the positive: they now had their hands on important documents, recent ones. They could get a better idea about the Centres' functioning, they had names, and who knows what was hiding inside the computer. Plans perhaps, codes to enter the high security complex? Harry was both excited and scared to break inside the Division's Centre but his heart was set on rescuing Remus whatever the cost.

"Shit. We need the password."

Harry sat back next to Draco. The latter turned the computer to him:

"USER PASSWORD:…"

Draco shrugged and typed:

"Division 8"… "ACCESS DENIED"

"Maria", the name of Cohn's widow… "ACCESS DENIED"

"James", "Thomas", his sons' names… "ACCESS DENIED"

Their birth date, Cohn's birth date…the obvious choices, but unsurprisingly, nothing worked. Cohn had been a despicable man but not a fool.

Harry stared at the blinking insertion cursor and the empty space next to it, searching for a clue. The answers to all their questions could be there, inside this stupid machine, and there was no way to access them. They were so close to uncovering the truth about the Division's secrets. Harry eyed Draco sombrely, both feeling they were facing a brick wall.

Then Harry's face brightened up as if a light had been switched on. It came to him as clear as day:

"Arthur!" he breathed out in an ethereal voice.

Draco frowned with incomprehension and let Harry continued, his face suddenly lively.

"Yes, he'll find a solution."

"Arthur… as in Arthur Weasley? Is that who you're talking about?" Draco asked, perplexed.

"Yes, he's… You'll see, he's got a whole system… computer programs… hacking…" he shook his head and frowned slightly, himself ignorant about the subject. "He knows his stuff, trust me. He'll help us."

Draco looked at him carefully, pondering this new development. To involve someone else in this mess was not a light decision. But Harry's face was so open, the real first glimpse of hope he had seen in these eyes for a long time. He set his jaw and nodded, solemn.

"If you're sure of him then, ok. Let's go to him."

Harry was first unsettled to see Draco so agreeable, then he beamed, overwhelmed by this new prospect. He started to talk at full speed, carried away by the excitation of the moment.

"You'll see, they're the best. You know, Arthur, Bill, Ron… they're the ones who helped me set up Remus' escape, you know, before they caught him again. They had planned it all, without them I couldn't have done it."

He grabbed the file from the table and leafed through it while keeping talking relentlessly.

"You should have seen it, it was so thorough. They really though about everything. Well, since the Division's restructuring, everything's changed of course. They say the complex is untouchable now, I say nothing's impossible with Arthur. That is not to say it'll be easy, but it doesn't matter. With this new information, Arthur will surely find a way."

With a satisfied smile, Harry threw his hand flat on the large folder. He didn't notice the way Draco's face turned troubled or the way he lowered his eyes. The blonde spoke up then, his tone grave.

"Harry… McCarthy's the priority. Freeing Remus, it's…" he shook his hand as if cutting the air, trying to overcome his frustration, "it's nice and all, but it's the Division we're talking about. You expect- what, to crash in without a hitch, elude their top security system, snatch Remus out right under the nose of the guards and the staff! Hello, goodbye, the deed is done? You're out of your mind!"

Harry stared at him with a deadpanned expression, the smile now vanished from his face. Draco stood up to regain some composure and said,

"No, I didn't sign up for that. We're getting McCarthy and that's it."

Harry shut the folder curtly and hardened his face.

"Talk for yourself! If I have a chance to save Remus, I will take it, and I will take it now. The more time goes by, the more his chances of survival narrows!" He dropped his hands theatrically. "Damn, I don't even know if he's still alive!"

Draco's stomach sunk in and he let out a heavy breath as if the words had physically punched him. He turned his head away then a nasty laughter escaped him. His shoulders sagged as he put his hand on his forehead.

When he faced Harry again, he looked defeated.

"Because on top of everything, he might already be dead! And what would you do if you manage to enter and he's not even there? What a bummer it'd be, right?"

"He will be there," Harry insisted, standing up in turn.

"You just said you weren't sure of it!" Draco cried out.

Harry shook his head then held it still, a bit out of his depth.

"I'm- No, I would know if he was dead, I would know it, alright!"

That was not the answer Draco wanted to hear. He put a hand on the mantelpiece and raised his voice, stressing the words,

"We're not cut out for this! Not now, not… not in these conditions!"

Harry's face closed. He had heard enough.

"Then let's see what we can find about McCarthy," he said. "… and when it's done, we'll just have to say goodbye."

Harry's definitive tone put an end to the conversation. He made a big show of gathering the files, grabbing them with more force than necessary, and passed by the blonde without sparing a glance at him. Midway up the stairs, he heard a last warning behind him.

"Go ahead, jump right into the arms of the enemy, that's all they're waiting for!"

Harry locked the bedroom room and threw the papers on the bed. Draco's reaction had taken him aback. He'd been so sure Draco would agree to follow him. The man had never let him down, at least not when it counted. And now he refused to help him. There were risks of course, there always were, and now more than ever. But with the Weasleys, surely they had a chance... Didn't they?

Yet, without Draco by his side, Harry already seemed to lose his fragile confidence and doubt began to set in.

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The rain was battling against the windows, thunder ripping the silence, lightening crackling and tainting the scene with scary flashes, but the small silhouette on the bed didn't seem to care. His back to the window, Harry was seated cross-legged in the middle of it, hunched over a pile of papers, photos and notes scattered around him. Here and there, a hand sprung out to put another paper away, tension growing on the thin shoulders.

It was an ignominy. The former werewolves that had presented some physical deformities after the shock wave had instantly intrigued the men of science who took a great interest in the anatomy and the skeletons of their "research subjects". So they took what they needed: blood, flesh, samples from living persons, teeth extractions, and then autopsies. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. They went through more radical practices. Barbaric practices: the chemical injections, the shock treatments, burning, slicing of conscious "subjects". Tests to evaluate their pain tolerance, to look for a proof of mutation, an unnatural reaction, anything.

The results were never conclusive but it only took a few anomalies on the diagrams or unusual blood results to reset the searches and keep the myth alive. Where was the magic? It had to be somewhere. They were bound to find something. There had to be an explanation! Science could explain everything, right?

They were so convinced they were on the verge of a breakthrough, that they would revolution the scientific world. Couldn't they realize the mistake of their ways?

The world was mad.

Harry rapidly scrubbed his face with his elbow. His vision was starting to blur. He kept scanning the papers, eyes unblinking over the autopsy reports, looking for Remus' name, but he found it nowhere.

The light bulb grizzled and suddenly died, finally turning his attention away from his reading. He had seen enough. He couldn't take it anymore. He crumpled up the paper he was holding and threw it away with a cry of rage. The paper ball fell miserably in the corner against the door. Numbers, names, just data. Nonsense.

Another war made out of sand. A slaughter in the name of fear and incomprehension.

Harry shut his eyes and discarded the photos on the bed, resting a limp arm across his forehead. Even in the dark, the faces of the Centre's victims appeared to him, clear as day. They were engraved in his mind and he knew now that he could never close his eyes in peace again.. The images wouldn't leave him until he did something about it.

The rain had stopped outside, giving way to a suffocating silence. Harry rose then lifted his arms in the air, hands joined, and stretched himself with a loud exhale. He shuffled out the room with the intention of seeking Draco out. The murder that afternoon and his refusal regarding Remus' rescue had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Even though he wasn't looking forward to having a fresh argument with the man, they needed to put things straight and decide about the next step.

His hand caught the banister and slid along it as he slowly came down the stairs. His eyes darted around the empty corridor. There was no sound but that of the wind outside. He reached the living-room, but Draco wasn't there. Perhaps he had left for a walk.

_In this weather?_ _Unlikely._

Harry was now used to being on his guard at all times. He walked back to the corridor and stopped in the middle, standing alone, listening carefully. The wind was singing against the windows frames, and there was a small noise like a knock upstairs, probably some rickety door. Then,

_BANG!_

His head turned sharply. The entrance door had just slammed against its frame. The wind pushed it open again. The relief was short lived and Harry's eyes widened. He had closed the door earlier, he was certain of it.

Someone was inside the lodge.

He stepped back slowly, eyes riveted to the door, expecting the intruder to appear at any moment, then he turned and backed up to the wall. _Make sure no one surprises you from behind._ He took a few sidesteps, glancing aside, when suddenly, small noises reached him. The sound was coming from the kitchen. It was muffled, like murmurs or… distress sounds. Harry's heart swelled in his chest as the gruesome images from before filled his mind again. His steps were carrying him closer and closer to the room. The door was at arm's distance now. Harry leaned sideway and turned his head very cautiously. Behind the glass, on the other side of the room, his face was hardly visible: a few strands of hair poked out, then his temple, then slowly, his eyes came into view.

And froze.

Draco was leaning against the kitchen table and Higgs was there, in front of him, almost bowing. Too close for comfort. Or it just may be the opposite. Higgs was drinking in the sight of Draco, his face upturned, and that position didn't seem to bother Draco who was looking attentively at him with a lopsided smile. The ever flirtatious man. It shouldn't surprise him, he had seen others. The man enjoyed the power he held over men and women, whether through money, fear or sex. But… it wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Draco had changed. Or had he?

Higgs caught Draco by the nape and pulled him toward him for a kiss. And Draco let him. The image looked alien to Harry, like an illusion, something he couldn't even reach. As if he didn't exist anymore, just a ghost behind the glass. The act hurt Harry to the core, twisting his insides. He staggered backwards, his presence still unnoticed, heart beating in his head. He hated how he felt.

The reaction was impulsive and immediate: he couldn't stay here, under this roof. With unseeing eyes, he walked away from the door and toward the exit, his pace growing faster as he approached it.

He didn't need this. He didn't need anyone.

He would make it on his own, find Remus by his own means, his own rules. Draco could jump that tosser for all he cared. Shit, he could spend every night with him if he wanted.

"I don't give a shit!"

He grabbed his jacket and slammed the door hard.

The air was heavy and cold, reflecting Harry's electric state. He didn't even know where he was going, the overgrown herbs bending under his steps, the hem of his too long trousers stained with mud. Blinded by rage, he was bolting forward, stumbling every few strides, his face resolute and his fists tight. He heard his name shouted somewhere behind him but didn't turn. He didn't want Draco to follow him, he wanted to be left alone!

Eyes dark and sullen, he quickened his pace but Draco kept up easily: Harry could hear footsteps tapping on the wet ground not far from him. He was close to running when his jacket was gripped and pulled backwards.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" he cried out blindly.

His anger seemed to surprise Draco. "What's got into you?" he asked.

Harry ignored him and kept walking, Draco trailing behind him. Infuriated by the brunet's stubbornness, Draco vented his ire too.

"WHAT?" he shouted this time. "What is it now?"

Harry whirled around to face him so suddenly Draco jerked back a bit. "We're wanted men!" He barked, his voice so hoarse with fervour it broke. "Our pictures are everywhere! A bloody psychopath is gathering his troops to wipe us out right now! The bloody Elders are after us, hell the whole country is after us! The sky's falling on our heads but you're too busy thinking about your dick to even care! That's what!"

Harry turned back around and resumed his frantic pace.

"Remus is probably dying somewhere," he muttered under his breath, "but you made it clear you don't care about it either, you selfish prick."

Draco shook his head. Harry couldn't see his face but the mocking chuckle that came next didn't escape him. Harry stopped and glanced over his shoulder. The look Draco threw at him could only be described as disdainful and a new burst of rage rose in Harry's chest at the sight. The brunet lifted his head high, prompting him to make his point.

"Remus, really?" Draco said, half laughing.

Harry saw this as a provocation and a blind fury took him over. He pulled his hands into fists and pounced towards the man.

"You think it's funny?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"No,_ you're_ funny," Draco retorted, his face turning deadly serious in the span of a second. "This is not about him, is it? It's not about McCarthy or the Elders either."

Draco was scrutinizing him with the aplomb of a man who had uncovered a truth. Harry's shoulders fell along with the mask of anger on his face.

"It's not even Cohn."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked away toward the woods with shame. Draco was now the one looking righteously indignant. Hair ruffled by the wind, he stood straight, looming over Harry as if reprimanding a small child.

"You're being ridiculous, you know that?"

It was the wrong thing to say. Harry stiffened, gave him a betrayed look and fled again. Draco rolled his head backward, exasperated, and tried to catch up with him.

"Harry!" he exclaimed with tired eyes, but the aforementioned didn't slow his steps.

It was getting old, so Draco gave up.

"Right, go on, run away!" he shouted with a strong voice, "You're good at that! Turning your back before you get in too deep. That's what you always do!"

Harry pretended not to hear but the words hit him all the same and his eyes turned sideways while his steps faltered. Behind him, Draco kept on,

"Every time! Every time something's worthwhile comes your way, you run. Aren't you tired of it? 'Cause I am."

Harry stopped in his tracks, his head bent, and Draco knew he had his attention now.

"What happened to you huh? What made you this way? You'd rather drop out than take a fucking risk!"

Draco stopped, seemingly out of words. The wind was picking up and he turned his collar up. Harry had yet to move or speak, closed-off and still, an impenetrable wall. So Draco glanced back at the cabin and began to walk away but the next moment, he thought better of it and turned back to Harry. He huffed and shouted louder, his voice carried by the wind over the wild expanse of land.

"I guess you like being miserable, don't you? Wallowing in self-pity… It's easier this way, when you don't have to fight anymore."

He stopped talking, letting the silence settle between them.

Harry's eyes fluttered. Draco's words had hit too close to home. He shook his head then, trying hard to remember what had ignited his first reaction. Then it came back.

"You kissed him!" he shouted with rage.

He regretted it the second it was out, it sounded so childish. His mouth gaped open, trying to swallow back the words, but it was too late. It was hanging in the air. The jealous fool. Harry focused on Draco again, expecting him to look triumphant or amused, only he wasn't. Instead, he looked furious.

"You." He said with a smirk. "I don't owe you anything! Not anymore," he snapped. "You've made that clear enough! So don't come crying now!"

It was true, Harry couldn't deny it, and it put a halt to their bantering. They sized each other up, taking a moment to regroup. Incapable of finding a thing to say, Harry stamped his feet, but Draco seemed reluctant to leave it there. Better get it all out in the open now.

"If I don't fuck it up, you will anyway," he said. "That's what we do, right? So what is it to you if I fool around? Do you expect me to wait for you? To waste away till you deem me worthy of your love? That's not going to happen!"

Harry turned completely to Draco and advanced toward him, shoulders hunched forward as if ready to charge.

"You son of a bitch, I don't give a rat's arse about you, you can fuck anyone you want, go shoot anyone you want! That's fine! I don't need you, I don't want your help! Go back to your gun crazy friends, I'm done with you."

Draco grabbed him by the arms holding him on the spot.

"Do you fucking hear yourself? Who elected you judge of good morals? What you've seen hasn't taught you anything? You think I enjoy shooting these men?" His eyes peered into Harry's, sweeping from left to right. "No! But that's how it works! It's them or me! I didn't make that rule, life taught it to me!"

Draco pushed Harry away, the latter catching himself last minute, his arms batting the air.

"You're the one who leaves me the dirty jobs because his lordship is too much of a coward to take his own responsibilities," he said and he pushed Harry again.

Harry stood his ground and retorted back with a dirty look "I've had my share of responsibilities for a lifetime! And no one forced you to murder all these people! Don't play the victim here!"

Draco huffed out with disbelief. "Oh yeah that's right, I'm a monster, a heartless scumbag! I'm not good enough for you!"

In the face of Draco's proclamations, Harry was left with no comeback. Then Draco dealt the last blow,

"Did I ever have a chance?"

_Did he?_

Harry fidgeted nervously. He didn't want a heart-to-heart now, there was too much to deal with. He was not ready for this conversation.

"It'… It's not like that," he mumbled, non-committal.

Draco's voice came, stronger now, "Then tell me?"

Harry averted his eyes.

"What's it like?" Draco insisted, shoving his shoulder in frustration.

The brunet was open mouthed, at a loss for what to say. The same bloody question every time.

What did he really want?

Draco but not with his gangster's ways. To make McCarthy fall but without blood. And thinking back on this, he was forced to recognize the unrealistic utopia of his expectations.

Draco was standing very close to him now.

"Why do you act like this?" the blonde asked. "What is it that makes you so defensive?" He brought his face closer to Harry and he looked suddenly very confident, almost cocky in the way he hovered over the smaller man. "Whatever you say, you know I won't change."

There was a spark in his eyes and on his lips, a knowing smile.

"And I think you like that."

Harry's brows furrowed at the unexpected turnaround. Draco was talking nonsense.

"I've always been this way, since the beginning, and in spite of that, you fell for me," Draco taunted, towering over Harry, his sultry voice hypnotizing, and the brunet could do nothing but stare with a lost expression on his face. "You're doing all you can to persuade yourself otherwise, but I know it turns you on."

Harry snickered. It was almost a laugh, but uncertain, like a desperate attempt to deny the other's affirmation.

Draco stepped forward, his eyes pinned to Harry's face, his lips - so close now - enunciating the words sultrily, like a snake trying to disorient him.

"That's what attracted you in the first place… the danger… the impunity…"

Harry shook his head frenetically, his stare wavering. "It's not true… not true…" he whispered but it sounded weak even to his own ears.

Cheekily, Draco took another step closer, "You like it. Deep down you know it."

Harry stumbled back clumsily and the distraction allowed him to regain his senses.

"No, I don't!" he denied vehemently, his arms and fists stiff at his sides, a vain attempt to protect himself from the man. But Draco wasn't fooled by the display of anger and kept smiling. It was unsettling and Harry had trouble getting hold of himself. "I don't!" he cried out more fiercely.

"You like it," Draco repeated, a wicked smile on his lips and this irritating certainty in his eyes, one that said 'I know everything about you.'

"Shut up! You don't know me at all!" Harry cried out.

His breathing was out of control, fire burning in his veins, Draco's taunting eyes, his proximity, the way he kept advancing on him, the need to make him stop, to beat him into silence. He was so dizzy and torn inside.

"Go to hell!" he spat.

He stepped aside, eyes drifting away, but in his haste, he missed the large root sticking up through the ground. He lost his balance and tried awkwardly to regain his footing, but too late. He was about to fall when Draco steadied him by his underarms and pulled him against him. Harry instinctively gripped his arms back and gasped. Nowhere to flee now.

He looked up into Draco's stormy eyes, and it was as if space and time suddenly disappeared. He took a shaky breath.

Before he knew it, he was grabbing Draco by the collar and his mouth was biting at his neck with unbidden ferocity. Desire and anger battled inside him, both blurring and it seemed the only way to defuse this pumped up energy, this searing tension between them. Draco yelped and pulled him off by his hair, bemused at the brunet's wild look. He tugged at the dark locks more forcefully and smiled at the way Harry closed his eyes with a moan. With his other hand, he enveloped Harry's neck and pressed, tightening his hold until Harry gasped and started to writhe. Then he slid his hand up his face, his thumb on the brunet's lips. An unwise thing to do, for Harry bit it the moment it passed his lips. Harry was swift to bat his other hand away, then he tried to hit Draco in the chest but the blonde caught his hand in his grip.

"Easy," he said.

It didn't deter Harry from lashing out at him: he pushed the blonde with his other hand and began pulling at his immaculate shirt. The pocket tore, revealing a patch of skin, and Harry kept scratching at it like a rabid animal. On impulse, Draco seized Harry by the hips, pulling him flush against him with so much strength he could crush his bones. Fight. Passion.

They fell apart.

Draco put a knee on the wet ground, dragging Harry down with him. The brunet gripped his arms for balance then Draco pushed him soundly on his back, covering him with all his weight. The tilt of perspective and the sensation of the hard ground on his back dizzied the smaller man. For a moment, his mind vanished. The smell of the rain was heavy in the air and the sky looked torn in half, a huge menacing black cloud spreading over the vast sea of grey like an ill omen. The sight was hypnotizing and Harry had this awful sensation that a black void was coming down on top of him. His throat tightened and his breath caught. The cloud was too close, it was about to swallow him whole! He whimpered and trembled but then suddenly everything disappeared and all he could see was two grey eyes above him.

Draco.

He had stilled too, eyeing Harry with caution. They observed each other as if they couldn't quite understand what had brought them to this. Harry twisted slightly, the soil and humid herbs matting beneath his arms and neck, little rocks digging on his back. His hand slid on the wet ground and the sensation of the earth under his fingertips brought him back to life. He pushed Draco's shoulder, catching him unaware, and wrestled him over. Now straddling the snarling blonde, his back hunched over him, he didn't know what to do. Draco caught his distress immediately and snarled. The expression on his face hit Harry, bringing back a memory.

Two teenagers, lost in a war bigger than themselves, fighting in a bathroom.

"You haven't changed," he croaked out. "You're still the same smug arsehole you were back in Hogwarts."

Draco's lips froze, his eyes now piercing. Silence, then with a burst of force, the blonde managed to free one arm and hit Harry with his elbow, right on the neck. It hurt like a hammer blow and Harry tumbled on the side with a cry. It was easy then for Draco to switch their positions and pin the smaller man to the ground in turn.

"And you're still a sanctimonious little cunt with a martyr complex," he shouted, clutching Harry's sweater and shaking him with rage. He stared at the brunet's impassive face and let him go. "Fuck!" he lashed out, sitting back on his heels, both his legs trapping Harry. The brunet's head fell to the side like a string-less puppet.

They were made a strange picture, lying muddy and dishevelled on the ground, in the middle of nowhere. The trees bristled in the distance, all was quiet. Serene.

Harry took a deep breath and coughed. His eyes shut in pain, then fingers were on his face. He opened his eyes to see Draco peering at him, his dirty hands encasing his face, smearing it with dirt. His thumbs traced gentle circles on Harry's cheekbones then on his lips. Their eyes met, sad and tired beyond their ages, and it was unavoidable. Harry snatched Draco's collar and pulled him down to kiss him. The clink of teeth, lips biting at each other, no finesse.

"We deserve each other then," Harry whispered, running his hand over the blonde's torso and over his belt. He started to unbuckle the blonde's belt but the latter batted his hand away.

"I'm not playing by your rules."

Draco fisted Harry's sweater and shirt and wrenched them off. The brunet gave him an unabashed smile, his hair tousled, his fair skin a stark contrast with the muddy ground. Draco grabbed him and yanked his trousers down. A shiver coursed through Harry's body as he felt the cold mud sliding against his backside, and he gripped Draco by the neck to find his balance and kiss him again. The clinking of the metal warned him the blonde had opened his trousers, and while he was busy sucking on his tongue, Harry's hands fumbled to push them down. They touched each other frantically, grabbing and kneading the flesh like two wild beasts, each gesture leaving traces of dirt in their wake, a map of their caresses.

Harry was particularly brutal. It was this urgent need to mark Draco, to break his skin and beat him to a pulp. To devour him. He couldn't say why, it was his body taking over.

Draco was no less fierce, matching Harry bite for bite. His face twisted with want and he caught the brunet's chin with his hand, his hold unmerciful. He detached his lips from him and pinned him with his eyes.

"There'll be no happy ending for us, you realize that," he said, breathless.

The statement left Harry more frantic than ever - to break the dark sentiment behind these words, to make him shut up, it didn't matter - and he kissed Draco again. Then the blonde gripped Harry's knees and pulled him forward. He settled between his legs and forced his way in. Harry cried out and tightened his grip on the blonde's biceps, his nails digging into his flesh. It was not gentle, their eyes were fierce and their bodies restless. And when Draco moved inside him it was at a brutal pace. Harry welcomed the pain and revelled in it, panting and moaning as if he were in heat. It was a liberation. They were in an agonizing trance, freeing all their hurt and frustration, moaning and groaning.

Draco gripped Harry's mane and pulled, baring the brunet's throat, his warm breath against his neck. He fucked him with all his strength and Harry received him with the same abandon, joining his punitive rhythm by pushing against him with each thrust. Their clothes were no more than a pile of dirt at their feet, their bodies almost entirely covered by drying mud, driven by instinct in a total animal copulation. A hand sprung out somewhere and planted itself on a patch of grass. A foot slid and dug into the ground to find leverage. All taut muscles and throaty moans.

They didn't last long. Orgasm hit fast and left Harry wrenched on the ground. His head fell aside then Draco's hands furrowed in his dark hair, his arms encaging his face, repositioning himself so his body was arched above Harry's, his head twisted in the air with strain and pleasure. He thrust again erratically, and again, Harry opening wider to accommodate him, then a strangled cry and his body slumped down atop him.

Harry's head was ringing, then sounds came back to him. Their heavy breathing. A bird singing somewhere around. Harry cracked an eye open on the stormy sky, his chin still trembling. He swallowed and turned his face to the trees far away, small blades of grass tickling his cheek. Draco's hand snaked around his naked shoulder and Harry casually caressed the blonde's back.

Lips swollen, muscles aching and bodies bruised, they were slowly coming down from their high. Harry wiped his nose with his elbow, the smell of the earth and the rain invading his nostrils. Draco pulled out from him then and Harry grimaced at the sensation. He looked at the blonde's back, enraptured by the way the muscles stretched as the man straightened up. Draco pulled up his trousers and sat between Harry's legs. The sweet warmth of his body now gone, Harry sat in turn, leaning to one side, a hand on the ground. Both stayed close like this, their legs intertwined. Their surroundings were so peaceful and for a brief moment, Harry could feel the osmosis between nature and him, his naked body and the earth. He just had to feel, not think.

Draco pulled a blade of grass out and seemed to study it with rapt eyes. "It always has to be a fight with you, doesn't it?" He flicked the blade of grass away and rubbed his hands together. "I'm no hero, and I'm certainly not a saint."

Harry was surprisingly calm while listening to him. His mind was now clear enough that he could understand the sincerity behind the words.

"But if you can accept it," Draco added, "even just for a while, then perhaps we can share a piece of road together."

He turned to Harry who was looking at him with unfocused eyes. The brunet couldn't imagine his life without the man, it just didn't feel right. Harry didn't want to call it quits yet. His bout of jealousy was proof enough of that. Now Draco had showed honesty. It was his way of saying, "I don't want you to leave." And in the end, maybe it was all that mattered.

No promises, no commitment. Just day to day.

Harry slid closer to Draco and put his chin against the blonde's shoulder. He thought he felt a shiver across the man's skin then Draco's hand came to rest on his cheek, his thumb rubbing a trace of dirt on his skin. Harry closed his eyes and leaned further into Draco, encircling his waist with a hand.

Their lips met again, naturally…

When they came back to the cabin, their clothes undone and soiled, faces and hands dirtied, they found Higgs busy rummaging around in the living-room. The man dropped several items of clothing and toiletries onto the table. He didn't turn upon hearing their return and if his embarrassed expression was anything to go by, it was clear their frolicking had not gone unnoticed. Harry didn't trust himself to face the man just yet, so he hurried upstairs to hop in the shower. Draco followed suit and both undressed in front of the other with content faces.

The striptease after the lovemaking. They kept doing everything backwards, Harry thought, amused.

Harry enjoyed the refreshing spray of water on his face, content like he hadn't felt in a while. Draco's arms came to encircle his waist from behind and Harry let his head fall back, leaning languidly against the blonde's torso. They took their time to wash each other between kisses and slow caresses, their eyes and smiles free from the pressure of the last days.

Back in the bedroom, Harry plopped down the bed, a white cotton bathrobe loosely tied. He watched Draco enter in the same state of undress, roughly drying his hair with a towel.

It was the moment he chose to reveal, "I know where Dieter Anderson is."

Draco's face snapped around to look at him right in the eye, his hand with the towel frozen in his hair.

"The former chairman of the Division," Harry added unnecessarily. He looked sideway and sighed. "We used to be… close," he said with a dazed, almost dull expression.

He wasn't looking at Draco but the blonde's eyes were stuck on his, a strange vibration passing there. Harry's head tilted a bit, as if lost in a faraway land.

"You remember, I told you I had a contact inside, someone who helped us free Remus? It was him." He took a small pause, toying with the cotton belt of his robe. "And he paid the price for it. He risked everything and he lost his position because of me."

He lifted his eyes, his pale, forlorn face fully exposed, so fragile now his protective wall was transparent and under the force of Draco's raw stare. He noticed Draco hadn't moved since he'd entered the room, thus keeping a fair amount of distance between them. The silence set in and the blonde let his arm fall, dropping the towel aside on a chair. He ruffled his hair before smoothing it down and looked at Harry again. He stood strongly, shoulder squared, and when he spoke, it was with an inflexible voice

"I think we need to talk."


	29. Pillow Talk

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just enjoy messing with her characters.

Warnings : strong language, lemon, rape (non descriptive and not H/D), dub-con, violence, drug use, hints of prostitution, multiple pairings, OCs.

Beta: The amazing MsLefay. Thank you for your tremendous help!

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and the faves, it means a lot to me!

On another note, chapters seem to get longer and longer, and I know it can be bothersome to read this amount of words in one page, so let me know if you'd rather I cut the next chapters in 2 parts.

There's a lot of talking in this chapter... and a little bit of loving too. The title says it all.

* * *

**CHAPTER 28 : PILLOW TALK**

It was going to be a long night.

Draco and Harry were both seated on the bed, facing the wall. Draco's elbows were resting on his knees, hands joined. Beside him, Harry was trying to make himself as little as possible, hands pressed between his thighs. Only a few centimetres separated them but if felt like miles.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Harry was aware that by confessing the nature of his relationship with the former chairman of the Division, he was opening Pandora's Box. Knowing him, Draco wouldn't leave him alone until he knew every last bit of it.

The brunet worried his lips and cocked his head to the side, searching for a satisfying answer, but it would do no good to sugar coat what had occurred between Anderson and him. Before he could spell it out, Draco was speaking again.

"I should have guessed... This morning, when Higgs gave us names? You looked absent. I should have known you were hiding something from me. Again."

His tone was turning accusatory so Harry got defensive, "What do you want me to say? Dieter got into all kinds of trouble because of me and I wasn't sure I wanted to get him involved in this again."

"It was not your decision to make."

Harry frowned crossly. "Oh yes, then whose is it?"

Draco snorted, letting his exasperation show.

"What?" Harry spat. "I told you, I caused him enough problems."

"Yeah well I don't know if you noticed but we have a bit of a situation here and we need all the help we can get."

"Thank you for reminding me. I know you think I'm being deliberately obtuse but I'm not. I'm trying to explain..."

"Then do."

Harry turned a baleful glance on Draco, trying hard to reign in his temper. The blonde wasn't making it easy for him. So he breathed out and regained a semblance of calm.

"The guy took great risks and lost his job because of me. I'm not ready to barge back into his life. Besides…"

"Yes?"

The abrupt way Draco was talking to Harry, looking at him as if he was untrustworthy, made Harry all the more flustered. He turned his eyes away and whispered,

"It was a long time ago. Things were different then."

"You were already using?" Draco asked bluntly, no judgement in his voice, just cold curiosity.

Harry wanted to go at his own pace but the question left him no place to hide.

"I… Yes, I was." He cleared his throat. "I guess a little back story is in order."

His hands gripped the corner of the bed, arms stiff, his whole posture expressing the hardship of going down that memory lane again.

"Jerry… He's the one who initiated me into the drugs scene," Harry scratched his jaw, eyes downcast. "… and the rest. "

A clack of the tongue and his tone turned factual, deceptively detached.

"He introduced me to his 'friends', big wheels, you know, money people, influential ones. There was that judge once, I think… I don't even remember. Lenny used to organize big parties in a crappy hotel he owned. He was cheap like that. But his clients never complained, they didn't come for that. Or maybe they liked that, I don't know... They just wanted to get dirty with 'the freaks'."

Harry ran a hand through his forehead, his fringe falling in place over his eyes. No matter how he phrased it, it would look as ugly as it was. It was only fair that terrible acts should echo in terrible words. Like prostitution, blackmail, rape. Just the sound of it was awful. And with them, painful memories came back to him, images he had willed to forget. The routine of the tricks.

"So he made them taste the goods, and we were supposed to _make nice_ with them," he scoffed. "It went on like that for a while, they came back a few times and once they were hooked, Lenny blackmailed them. He showed them photos, videos he had taken on the sly and threatened to divulge them. With public opinion and families in balance, it was a no brainer."

Harry laughed bitterly.

"I was just another tool, even back then."

He scrunched his eyes, he could feel a migraine coming. And Draco who hadn't said a word, unmoving next to him. It was just as well. Harry didn't need to see the disgust marring his face. That's why Draco's next words hurt so much.

"Did you get paid for it?"

Harry's head whipped around and he pushed himself away from Draco in what seemed like indignation. But he couldn't claim the moral high ground, for there was nothing to deny.

"Money or drugs?" Draco asked.

Harry shook his head as if it would help him clear his thoughts.

"That's not…" He huffed with frustration. The man was grilling him as if it was a damn interrogatory! "Like I said, I was different then! Hell I didn't even realise. For me the only thing that mattered was my next fix. I was so far gone!"

Draco kept a leveled stare, cruel in its blankness. Everything Harry said seemed to bounce back on him. So he lowered his gaze down to the sheets.

"I have no more than scraps of memories. Those years went by like in a dream. A bad dream."

Draco didn't miss a beat. "Let me guess, Anderson was one of those poor mugs?" he said.

"Yes!" Harry snapped. "Yes he was."

He would find no pity in Draco, but that was all right, because he didn't deserve it. Not this time.

Harry kept his anger at bay and resumed, matter-of-factly,

"We met on a regular basis. I liked him, he was nice to me. We didn't just… He confided in me, and he asked me questions about me, my life. He used to give me a few extra quid, just for me. He felt more like a friend than anything else. And I sure as hell needed one. Lenny fleeced him like all the others, and I thought that was the end of it but we met again, later on. He didn't even resent me. He told me he'd seen it coming. I… I didn't understand why he had kept seeing me if he knew. And how could he talk to me like that? Like it was no big deal! He didn't even shout at me, nothing. As for me, I was just glad he wasn't about to get me in trouble."

Draco looked at him attentively, a new clarity behind his grey eyes. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together.

"Enter the Weasleys," he said as it was the logical order of things.

Harry turned to him and nodded.

"I couldn't believe they'd found me. I was such a mess, I thought it was another one of my hallucinations. I brushed them off!" He snorted self-depreciatively. "I wasn't in my right mind and I think that deep down I was ashamed. But they came back to tell me Remus was in one of the Division's Centres, that he needed me. With hindsight I'm sure they could have saved him without me…"

"But they wanted to save you too," Draco ended.

A small smile played on Harry's lips. "And they did. It all clicked. Remus needed me. I finally had the chance to make things right, to resume my life. So I quit everything. Lenny almost got me killed that day, but Ron and Bill got me out and they supported me through the hard times. I came to their place, I was so happy: Arthur was there and Ginny…"

Harry left the subject suspended then waved a hand in the air as if noticing he had strayed from the heart of the story,

"So we started to make plans but we kept coming up against obstacles. We couldn't get far without outside help. And then Dieter came to mind. I knew he had a soft spot for me, so I went back to him. We-" He glanced up at the blonde then lowered his eyes again. "We resumed our affair but it was different. We didn't always sleep together. We talked. Yeah we talked a lot. He wanted to know the whole truth about me. And in return, I asked him about his work and how it operated. Little by little, I was collecting info and it was going fine. Then one day, out of the blue, he asked me who I was trying to help."

Harry smiled and nodded.

"He knew. Dieter always knew. I told him everything and he gave me all I needed. I thought he was crazy but he said he just wanted to lend me a hand."

Draco rose off the bed and backed into the far wall of the room, arms crossed. He looked down at Harry, noticed his forlorn expression and smirked.

"I've got the feeling you spent your time using everybody."

There was sourness in his words and Harry bent down to bury his face in his hands.

"Don't say that," he whispered.

At the brunet's disarray, Draco seemed to regret his words. He crouched down in front of him and sweetened his voice.

"You see, you don't always have the choice."

Harry's eyes were pinned to the parquet. Draco let his words sink in then stood again.

"Besides, Anderson knew perfectly what he was doing. You didn't force him into anything."

"But he lost everything…"

"It wasn't your fault."

"It is!" Harry countered.

They stared at each other in stony silence and the momentum gave weight to Draco's next words.

"He let you use him. If he was a victim, he was a willing one."

There was a new depth in Draco's eyes and Harry was certain there was a double entendre to his words. It wasn't just about Anderson anymore.

Draco drew his hand upward to brush the brunet's face, his fingers wandering along the side of his face. Harry leaned into the caress, Draco's eyes became glazed, caught up in the sweet interlude.

"You look so innocent… It makes people want to debauch you."

His long fingers danced on the brunet's skin and turned to brush his cheek with the back of his hand.

"Hm, if only they knew," Harry breathed out.

Draco's fingers wormed their way into the brunet's hair. "You don't see what I see," he said tenderly.

How sweet those words were, how soothing. The brunet leaned forward and let his forehead fall against Draco's belly. A gesture that spoke more than any words could.

"You see the worst and the best in me," he whispered.

"I do. Yet I'm still here."

Harry let his eyes closed, letting Draco pet his head lovingly, the smell of lilac and Draco's unmistakable scent appeasing him.

To recount the dark road that had led him to Remus had been like laying his entire story flat. The chronology of a failure. Contemplating it, he felt there should be a meaning behind it, some sense to make out of his journey, or perhaps he could find a loophole somewhere, a moment where he could have turned things around. But no, it felt ineluctable.

And it had all led him to this. To Draco. So maybe it was for the best.

"You know we'll have to contact him," the blonde said.

Harry shook his head, his nose buried in his lover's soft bathrobe.

"I know…" he answered, his voice muffled by the cotton.

Harry tilted his head up to meet Draco's eyes, all tentative and nervous. He let his gaze wander over the blonde's torso and held his hand out to touch the skin there, fingers running along the white crossover collar. Then his other hand came to play with the belt, letting the tip slide between his fingers. Draco looked entranced by the playful gestures and let him have his way. Harry lifted his eyes toward him again in a silent request, or a challenge. He pulled on the belt that opened easily, letting appear a thin sliver of skin running the length of the robe. Harry snaked a hand under the cloth, travelling along the much adored skin, then he lowered his fingers still hidden under the robe and moved them down, grazing the blonde hair around his lover's sensitive member.

Draco let escape a breath and closed his eyes with anticipation before meeting Harry's hypnotizing green stare again. Harry had yet to take his eyes off him.

"Are you trying to distract me?" Draco whispered breathily.

Pleasure was written over their bewildered faces and their half-opened mouths. Harry slowly took Draco's cock in his hand, feeling the flesh hardening between his fingers. His long fingers gently ran along its length while his eyes observed the effect of his touch with rapture.

"Is it working?" Harry retorted mischievously.

He leaned down and brushed the hard dick over his cheeks and his lips. The intimate caress was rewarded by a gentle pat on his head. Once he finished worshipping his lover's cock, he brought his hand to his mouth and made a show of licking his palm, his tongue slowly wetting it, then he took hold of the heated skin. Draco unconsciously tilted his head up. An intake of breath. Lidded eyes.

Harry smiled. He was the one in charge, taking control of the blonde's pleasure, deciding the rhythm, and what he would give him. Harry knew how far men could go for this, for his touch. Draco was no different. It was a heady power, one that he had mastered.

The first contact was tentative, Harry's fingers fluttering around the head, hesitant. A ruse. Fake shyness. Draco liked that. It worked every time.

The movements of his wrist were slow at first, establishing a languorous rhythm, little by little, letting the pleasure grow, and grow... then he broke it, accelerating the pace. Draco seemed to approve, his breathing coming shorter and shorter, his legs unsteady, body made useless by the pleasure, his penis the center of his attention. So basic and simple.

Harry liked that, the language of sex, uncomplicated. Like a neutral ground. There was nothing to think about, they just had to let their bodies talk, and their bodies were acutely attuned to each other. There was no way to explain why it worked, it just did. And maybe that was all they needed to know.

With his other hand, Harry parted the panel of the robe to uncover Draco's flesh, his greedy eyes lingering on the erect cock His right hand froze at the base to get Draco's attention. The blonde focused back on Harry's face and it spurred him on. A wanton lick of the lips and Harry lowered his head to kiss the sensitive tip. A moan passed the blonde's mouth, his head thrown backwards.

Just right.

Harry wrapped his mouth completely around Draco's cock and sucked the extremity, the other hand resuming its steady movement at the base. His lips travelled along the side, caressing all the length, then came up again. He was so concentrated he almost started when Draco's hand closed heavily on his shoulder, almost painful. The blonde was trembling, could barely stand. The tease had last long enough. Harry didn't miss a beat and engulfed him whole in his mouth. His eyes closed. He took his time to taste the skin, to feel its shape and weight on his mouth. A small cry reached his ear and he rejoiced in it.

_Breathe through your nose, slow. A little longer. You can take it._

Then he pulled off and took him whole again. He felt Draco's fingers on his head, encouraging him, tightening the further he went. Harry liked the pull of it, the roughness, the way the blonde couldn't hold it together.

"Yeah, just like that sweetheart..." Draco whispered breathlessly. "You love it, don't you?"

The brunet pulled away once more and bobbed his head faster. He was thorough, fixed on his task, coming and going in a steady rhythm, his other hand adventuring lower to fondle him.

"I bet it wasn't like that with him..."

It wasn't the most appropriate time to mule over Anderson or any of Harry's past lovers. They were not images Harry wanted to have when he had his lover's dick in his mouth, but he could see why Draco would feel bitter about it. It had taken years for Harry to get past the shame and disgust of himself. He had let all these men touch him, use him. There was no sexual act he had not performed, nothing he had not seen. And yet, Draco was right. Sex had never been more fulfilling than with Draco, never more intense. It had been the only time sex had felt right. And he would make sure the blonde would never doubt it.

Harry hummed his acquiescence and engulfed Draco to the root, then kept sucking relentlessly with little sounds like hiccups at the back of his throat. He teased him with his tongue again and again until the blonde strengthened his grip on his hair, on the verge of collapsing. Harry grabbed his hips and took him fully, his nose buried in his pubic hair.

"Fuck… Yes, take it... No other one..." the blonde babbled incoherently.

He lowered his hands to frame Harry's face firmly, asserting his control in turn. Harry took his cue and slackened his jaw, letting him do as he pleased, simply a vessel for Draco's pleasure. The rhythm turned frantic, the blonde thrusting wildly in his mouth, fingers buried in his hair, never letting go. It was overwhelming. Harry's eyes were lost ahead, on Draco's skin and hair, his mouth full, abused and it was powerful. He scrunched his eyes, Draco's hips bucking more violently now, then hollowed his cheeks. He looked up at Draco, the green so pure it was sacrilege at that moment. Their eyes met and it tipped Draco over the edge, his body tensing suddenly. The warning signal.

Harry kept his lips tight around him. The blonde took an intake of breath, his grip on Harry's hair so strong it hurt. A sharp thrust and with a strangled cry, he spread himself inside Harry's offered mouth. The brunet couldn't help but brace for it. It was his favourite part, that turning point, suspended and uncontrollable. He let the bitter seed flow down his throat with contentment and ran his hands softly down Draco's thighs. The blonde's whole body sagged while Harry gently milked him.

Silent bliss. A moment of communion.

The soft member left Harry's mouth and the hand on his hair released his grip to gently caress his scalp. A soft hum reached his ear, his head finding its place against Draco's navel. The blonde's fingers kept stroking his nape and the gesture felt motherly, lulling him slowly. Peacefully.

It was in this position that Harry heard the door open and Higg's voice behind him,

"Guys, I-"

Then a gasp.

Still in daze, Draco closed his bathrobe without haste, leaving no doubt about what had just taken place. Next to him, Harry closed his eyes, more annoyed than embarrassed by the man's intrusion.

"Great timing" he said between his teeth.

A sigh.

Harry ran his tongue in his mouth to erase the remnants of their activities and turned to the man. "Terence, may we help you?" he asked with no little sarcasm in his voice.

Draco seemed undisturbed by the interruption, sated and unconcerned, while Harry was seething in front of the man he had seen flirting with his lover. Higgs had the decency to look uncomfortable, his eyes unable to settle on anything, a stark contrasts with the two men's nonchalant attitude in the room. Harry lay down on the bed and stretched like a cat in a provocative gesture.

Higgs resumed, "Draco, I left your groceries downstairs and a few more clothes."

The distracted blonde didn't bother to look at him and Harry was glad at that.

"That's so nice of you," he said mockingly. "Always the thoughtful gentleman."

It was petty but words flew out of his mouth before he could hold them back. Higgs didn't rise to the bait and kept his eyes on Draco.

"I'll be leaving in a few minutes," he informed.

"Alright," the blonde answered. "Let me dress up and I'll catch up with you."

Higgs kept standing there, seemingly waiting for something, but the awkwardness of the situation and the silence eventually chased him away. He closed the door and left the two men alone.

Harry let an audible breath out and spread his arms over the sheets, tapping his feet against the bed. He couldn't hear Draco so he rolled lazily to the side and caught sight of him as he made his way out. A moment later, he was back with two glasses of water. Harry propped his head up on his elbow and stared at him.

"Did you ever sleep with him?" he asked out of the blue.

Draco, understandably taken aback, sighed and put the glasses forcefully down on the nightstand.

"What? It's my turn now, is that it?"

"I'm just curious," Harry answered. It had come close to a whine.

Draco sighed and picked up his glass to drink. He drank slowly and put it back down, expecting Harry to drop the issue, but when he looked back at him, Harry's eyes were scrutinizing him, waiting for an answer.

"Let's not do this," he said.

Harry lowered his eyes submissively but he felt restless, like a child denied. He straightened and fluffed the pillow behind him to settle more comfortably against the headboard. His eyes kept drifting back to Draco who was busy looking for clean clothes. He observed him in silence but it didn't last.

"But can't you tell me?" he burst out suddenly, bending forward in the motion.

The blonde rolled his eyes but Harry didn't care.

"You've never...?" he tiptoed, stretching the last word with the hope Draco would take over.

The blonde shifted and looked him in the eye. "No," he said with emphasis.

Harry's brows shot up. He had obviously expected another answer. "Even back at Hogwarts?" Narrowed eyes were his answer. "Ok, ok..." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand and retreated against the headboard. "Sorry, I won't say another word."

It was a lie. Questions burned his tongue and only a few seconds later, he sat up abruptly and fired,

"Then why did you kiss him?"

Draco raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Because you're impossible!" he answered in a near shout.

Harry frowned and recoiled.

"I never know where I stand with you. I'm a man. I have needs, ok? And you keep pushing me away."

"I see," Harry snorted. "I wouldn't put out, so you just looked for another shag. Wow, thanks for clarifying that, I feel so much better now." Harry was out of bed the moment he finished his sentence. He slipped his underpants on and took off his bathrobe.

"Stop right there, we're not doing this again," Draco warned. He stepped in front of Harry as the latter was slipping his t-shirt over his head. The brunet was stubbornly avoiding his eyes so Draco took his face between his hands and leaned forward. "You're the one I want, make no mistake of it, but you're driving me nuts. I fucked up, but only 'cause I was sure it was over. You're not the only one who's lost here. I might look strong but most of the time, I don't know what I'm doing," he said, emotion evident behind his uncertain eyes.

Harry pulled at his t-shirt's hem to get it straight and let his hands slide, now riveted on Draco. The blonde let his hands drop too.

"I don't know if we're going to make it," he added with a twist of his lips. It wasn't easy for him to admit, that much was sure. "So I try to make the right decisions, to make it work. But you... you're not making it easier on me. You make me weak, and I can't afford to be weak."

The confession unravelled Harry who outstretched his hand to brush the man's cheek.

"I know..." he said, voice caught in his throat. "I know." He smiled. "We're a mess, aren't we?" he said with a half-laughter. "I didn't know it would be so hard, this love thing."

It earned him an unexpected kiss. Draco only took a taste and smiled back.

"Well it is."

He stepped aside, untied his robe cord and let it slide and pool around his feet. Taut muscles were revealed, soft skin. The view was mesmerising, like a strong pull, or a car accident you couldn't take your eyes off. Harry knew Draco's body by heart now but he was no more immune to its beauty. He was lost in contemplation when Draco turned to him again with a knowing smirk. As if caught red handed, Harry scratched his head and sat down on the bed.

The blonde took a fresh pair of boxers out of the chest of drawers, slipped them on and plopped down on the bed by Harry's side. Higgs was momentarily forgotten. Harry's only desire was now to snuggle up into his man and forget about the rest. So he sat up to straddle Draco. Gladly surprised by the change of mood, Draco laughed and put his arms around him. Harry kissed him once, chastely, then a second time. He smiled and nuzzled Draco's head, his nose tickling the fine hair there. His eyes turned up to Draco's face, searching, unnoticed by the blonde.

"Have you ever been in love?" Harry asked.

Draco turned a blank stare to him, probably thinking it was jealousy talking again. One of these silly questions lovers asked for reassurance or some other bullshit couples did. So Harry clarified,

"I'm not talking about me. I meant… before, did you ever love someone? I mean really loved."

Harry could see Draco was little inclined to bare his soul, so he put his hand on his neck to have his full attention.

"You wanted to talk, so let's talk. I'm not the only one keeping secrets. I want to know more about you, about your past. What made you the man you are now."

Draco seemed to consider it. He levelled Harry's gaze and made himself more comfortable against the headboard.

"Once. But it didn't work out."

Harry rearranged his legs around Draco's and whispered,

"Astoria."

Draco's head jerked up.

"You knew?" he said with a frown. Harry nodded sheepishly. Draco rested his head back against the bed frame and sighed. "Of course you knew."

Harry weighed his words carefully. It was a delicate matter and he didn't want to offend his lover.

"She hurt you."

It wasn't a question. Harry only repeated what he knew in the hope Draco would fill the blanks.

The blonde didn't speak right away. He stroked Harry's thighs and sniffed. Then he crossed his arms against his chest and looked aside. It was the most defensive Harry had ever seen him.

"She made me believe she loved me but she was working for McCarthy all along. End of story."

Harry, respectful of the distance Draco wanted to put between them, removed himself from his lap and sat besides him echoing his position, back to the headboard.

"How was she?" he asked. He knew it was risky to rekindle that dreadful past but he was curious about Astoria. There were so many parallels between her story and his.

"What can I say?" Draco sighed. "She looked different. She wasn't fooled by my sweet-talk. I wanted to have her and I did. At least I thought I did. We were so much alike... She had to be well-informed. I fell in love with an illusion. I don't know if I ever knew her at all. We had planned to get married."

Harry turned his head to Draco, astounded by the revelation. He had no idea they had gone that far.

"That wasn't in your reports, was it?" Draco said acerbically. "Yeah it was serious. To make it work, I had to be honest with her. I told her everything about me: the trafficking I participated in under Lucius' leadership, all our scams. When she said it didn't change anything for her, I thought I'd die I was so happy!" Draco's eyes drifted in the distance as he huffed. "How naive I was."

He smoothed down the sheet beside him with one hand and sighed.

"One day, I woke up and all her things were gone, there was nothing left of her. Not even a note. I was mad with worry, I thought something had happened to her. And then cops arrived with their warrant. Still, I wouldn't believe Astoria had anything to do with it. I was that blind. Eventually, I found out she was about to testify against me." He pressed his lips into a thin line with an air of careless resignation. "I couldn't deny the evidence. It felt like I aged ten years in the process. "

Draco smoothed his hair down to put up a mask.

"I can't deny it hurt but it made me stronger. She didn't come to the trial and then she disappeared for good."

Silence.

Harry lowered his head and pushed his legs up to hug his knees. Astoria's disappearance made it so much worse, leaving a wide gap filled with thousands of questions that would remain unanswered. No way to know if she had ever had the slightest feeling for Draco, if she had been forced to do it, just like he had. She would remain an unsolved mystery. Nothing was left of her, no tomb to cry or rage against. Even in death, she had escaped Draco.

"Do you know if..." Harry started tentatively. "If Lucius-"

"I know he killed her. Astoria had betrayed us. She posed a threat."

Another logical reason, cold and uncompromising. The code of the gangs.

Draco had spoken as if he were unmoved by it all but Harry could see the pain was still there, deep and searing.

"I'm sorry," he offered softly. "I'm sorry about Astoria." He swallowed and added, "I'm sorry about me."

Draco stayed distant in his words. "It's McCarthy I blame. If I'd know he would keep grudge all these years... Crazy fucker. He deserves to suffer."

Harry was transfixed by the vengeful anger behind those grey eyes. Then he remembered his own lies and tricks, his silence about his past. Astoria and he weren't so different. If Harry hadn't fallen for his prey, perhaps they would have shared the same destiny. It was not something he wanted to ponder for too long, so he changed the subject.

"The Daphné you talked about with Pansy, is that her sister?"

Draco had a hard time concentrating again.

"Hm. Yeah," he said, still miles away. "She's a good friend, nothing like her sister. She didn't even know about McCarthy. I made sure of it. She used to hang out with us in Reading," he continued, "and after that disaster, she followed us to the villa. She didn't understand Astoria's gesture. She was one of us you know. Pansy grew very fond of her. Between girls, they protected each other. Daphné had to put up with her crisis, she went through the mill with her, especially at the beginning. Back then, she wasn't the Pansy you know. She was wild, hysterical, we were in over our heads with her. But Daphné, she knew how to handle her. She reassured Pansy, she taught her how to calm herself. Then Daphné had to leave, just to get on with her life. And then you came along."

Harry was digesting all this information, pensive. He frowned.

"But if they're friends, why did Pansy freak out when you told her we had to leave and Daphné would take care of her."

Draco straightened up with a huff, tired to dwell on Pansy's story.

"It's complicated. Pansy's parents died in terrible circumstances. They were attacked, killed by a band of fanatics. Pansy closed in on herself after that. And when they put her in one of their facilities for the "risky cases", they treated her like a deranged person, a pariah. They put her on meds and when she became no more than a vegetable, they decided to send her to a foster family, you know, when they were still trying to look good and convince us we'd be treated decently."

"What happened?"

"A few weeks in, they kicked her out. Back to the institute with a girl more broken than she was to begin with. When I found her, she acted like a little child, refugee in her own world. She's still scared they'll find her and take her back there. Every time I leave she gets nervous. And to keep her away like that is to leave her behind again..."

Harry elbowed him, a small smile on his face.

"Eh, we'll get back to her soon," he said encouragingly, even though he was not convinced of it himself.

"Yes." Draco patted Harry's knee and made to get up. "Let's go downstairs. Higgs must be getting impatient."

"We wouldn't want that," Harry mocked.

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Downstairs, Higgs had his backpack ready at his feet. Draco talked to him briefly and went in to the living-room to retrieve some papers from his bag. Alone, standing in front of the door, Harry and Higgs were facing, observing each other tensely. It was strange how little they had exchanged during their stay, yet there was so much animosity and tension between them already. Now that Higgs was about to leave though, it seemed very derisive and immature. So Harry swallowed jealousy and pride and held out his hand to the man. Higgs looked at it for a moment then finally shook it. Before the situation could get awkward, Draco was back to give Higgs the papers. They bid their farewell and hugged. Higgs grabbed his backpack and opened the door.

He would head back to London and who knows if they would ever see him again. At this thought, shame filled Harry's heart. He had been scornful with the man just because he had seen him as a love rival. How trivial. As Draco was walking away, Harry caught the door before it closed. Higgs turned at the sound and looked at him. Harry took a contrived air.

"I just wanted to say good luck."

Higgs froze, surprised, then smiled at him. Hands in his pockets, Harry leaned against the door with a warm expression, glad they had a chance to part in peace. Higgs took a step forward and brought his face closer.

"You're the one who'll need it. Death is all over you, I can smell it," he seethed. "And if you don't leave Draco alone, you'll bring him down with you. Mark my words."

Harry's eyes were wide and unseeing, shocked by these words he hadn't expected. Their faces were a breath away from touching, the wind whistling between them, accentuating the stillness of the moment. Then Higgs' face slowly moved back, the scornful sneer that Harry had mistaken for a smile still in place. The words kept ringing in his head and when he regained focus, Higgs was no more than a dark silhouette in the distance.

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Draco's finger traced the outline of Harry's ear, exploring its shape curiously. A faraway look on his face, Harry let him do. He had kept quiet about Higgs' words. They weren't important anyway. It was just silly superstitions, cruel words coming from a jealous man. He was jerked out of his thoughts when Draco pressed on his scar, the brunet's shoulders sagging instantly. The skin was still thin and sensitive there.

Draco grimaced. "Does it hurt still?"

Harry smiled slightly at the concern in his voice and shook his head. "It's fine."

Both men were lying upside down on the bed, Draco's feet resting on the headboard. Sleep eluded them and the fatigue unleashed their tongues, opening long forgotten gates. The ease with which they confided in each other proved they had reached a comfort zone, that they now trusted each other completely. It was also a proof of how little they had really shared until now. But that they could simply share a bed, without secrets or fears hanging between them was a victory in itself.

Draco turned on his back, staring at the ceiling with Harry.

"What do you miss the most?" he asked, crossing his arms behind his head. "From our former lives."

Harry's lips tightened. "Besides the ones who left us..." A sad thought, all the names coming back to him. He dismissed it painfully and searched his mind. Then after a few seconds,

"Just the feeling of magic I guess," he said wringing his hands. "I'd never really noticed I could feel it all the time. But when it was gone, it was like someone had cut my legs off you know? Like I couldn't feel anything..."

Draco nodded wordlessly beside him, eyes haunted. Harry struggled for words, the feeling was indescribable. He balled his hand in a fist and his voice rose higher.

"I felt more... alive." It was the closer way to put it and it felt so depressing.

"Yeah," he heard next to him.

He turned to Draco, his cheek on the sheets. The blonde mimicked him. Their eyes met, nostalgia, sorrow in it, then they drifted away, blinking silently. Harry shifted his feet.

"Flying," he said. "I miss flying."

Draco cracked a smile. "Aww yes, me too."

Harry closed his eyes and the past came back, the sensations so vivid: the wind in his face, the increasing speed, the sky so wide and open, the land spreading out as far as eyes could see.

"The freedom," he said out loud.

"The adrenalin," Draco added, eyes shining with mirth.

"It felt like nothing could stop me."

"_Almost_ nothing," Draco countered with a smirk.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he turned his face to him.

"What? In your dreams! You've never won a Quidditch match against me!"

"Circumstances Potter, circumstances. I could take you anywhere, anytime."

Harry bolted aside to loom over the blonde's face.

"You sore loser! You always had to turn it into a showdown."

Draco laughed at his angry face and teased.

"Come on, you_ loved_ to win. With your little triumphant air..."

"Everyone loves to win." Harry shrugged. Draco kept ogling at him with a knowing smirk. Harry let the mask fall and fumbled with the sheets. "Alright maybe I had an extra satisfaction crushing you on the field."

Draco huffed with disbelieving eyes. "_Crushing_ me? Now I've have heard it all!"

Harry broke into a frank laughter. Draco shimmied down further on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head with an amused smile.

"Really, if you think about it, I pushed you to surpass yourself, so your victories are a bit mine too."

Harry nodded ostentatiously, faking agreement. "Sure Malfoy, sure."

Draco didn't seem to react at that but the next moment he jumped on Harry who let out a surprised cry. The blonde pinned him to the bed and captured his lips in a staggering kiss.

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"It's raining again."

Harry was at the window, stark naked and not the least embarrassed by it. It was the most natural thing in the world. Draco and he had just had sex and he still felt him all over his body. He shivered, his body's temperature dropping slowly down now.

"Bring your sweet arse back, it's warmer here," Draco called behind him.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to the blonde. Draco had opened the sheets, waiting for him with hungry eyes. The picture was so tempting. His steps nonchalant, Harry came back to the bed with deliberate slowness. He put a knee on the mattress, then a hand, crawling like a feline. While well decided to taunt his lover and move as slowly as possible, he couldn't prevent Draco's sudden attack when the blonde caught him around the middle and tipped him over the bed to ravish him. Harry giggled and returned the kiss. He detached his lips from his to whisper,

"I don't think we'll get any sleep at this rate."

Draco, between two kisses,

"Hm… But it's a nicer way to pass the time, don't you think?"

Laughter melted into moans, Harry drifting away in Draco's arms. He stroked the blonde's cheek and looked at him with a smile that too soon faded. Draco frowned. Harry looked so serious and solemn, his head crowned with black against the white sheets, then he suddenly buried his head in Draco's shoulder, one arm wrapped around his neck.

"Why can't we stay like this forever? Why does it have to be so fucking hard?"

Draco began massaging Harry's nape tenderly and answered in an equally misty voice,

"It doesn't have to be."

Harry rolled over on his stomach, his chin resting on his crossed arms. He knew they could start over. A new beginning. Maybe they could do it. Together. But then Draco would have to prove himself. If he followed him to the end, if he helped him find Remus... Yes, that would be the ultimate proof, a commitment toward him.

A warm weight settled over him and he closed his eyes. Draco draped himself on top him, running his hands along Harry's arms. He kissed the skin between the shoulder blades, caressed his neck, his hands lifting the thin hair covering his nape. He dropped a kiss on the skin there and ran his nose over it. He contemplated it, seemingly absorbed by the sight of the pale patch of skin.

"How come you don't have anything?"

Harry titled his head with incomprehension.

"Hm?"

"You never told me how you escaped their chips?"

"You never asked me," Harry retorted.

Draco ran his thumb over the designated place in a soothing motion. The skin was unblemished and soft. A unique occurrence.

"I've never see any one of ours that wasn't marked. We all were treated to their welcome gifts," he said, bitterness lacing his words. He ran his fingers on his own nape, the scar rough under his touch, engraved there forever.

"I didn't stay around like everybody else," Harry said, evasive.

"Even for the Wizard Benefit? And their medical care?"

Harry shrugged. Draco shifted aside to look at his face.

"Didn't they find you housing?" No answer. "And their census? You couldn't have avoided it... They were everywhere. I had to go through it, the whole gang did."

Harry leaned his head completely against his arm, sweeping his hand across the sheet with an absent look.

"What happened to you?" Draco asked undeterred.

Confronted with a mute Harry once more, he put his hand on his shoulder.

"Harry?"

The brunet groaned, eyes fixed on the sheet.

"I only stayed a few weeks in their 'Welcome Centres', those dreadful factories. So dark and cold. In our bunks each night there were cries and whimpers. And I could hear their stories, about the ones they lost, people turning to dust or found under the rubble. Luna, she died like that, did you know? Buried under her house with her father. And Hagrid. They said he just stopped breathing like all the air had been sucked out of him. His skin dried and cracked, and like ashes, it just flew out of him until there was nothing left of him. Not a trace. Did you know that?" He licked his lips, eyes shining. "I had thought..." A broken, distressed laughter escaped his mouth. "I had stupidly thought he might have survived, that his human part would have saved him... I don't know."

He took a shaky intake of breath and Draco immediately shushed him. "It's ok, it's ok..."

When he felt confident enough to speak without shattering, Harry resumed his story.

"I wanted to know who else had died. I needed to know. I asked the authorities, but they turned me down. I insisted but nothing filtered through. Then I saw the official list. I recognized a few names but I knew there were more. Days passed and I had yet to hear about Ron and the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus and his family, Neville, the professors... It turned into an obsession. I had to find them. I couldn't stand all those crumbled faces, those cries. I felt they blamed me. I _knew_ they blamed me."

Harry rubbed his eyes and his voice sounded incredibly tired all of a sudden.

"I wanted to go. It was the first weeks, people were still trying to decide if we were just a band of loonies. I thought no one would hold me back when I tried to leave, but a band of young recruits caught me at the gates. They started insulting me. I was so angry and desperate, I answered back and I hit one of the guys... It was stupid," he muttered. "They didn't like it..." he said with a dark chuckle. "So they beat me up." He bit the inside of his cheek. The aggression had left its mark on him.

He was glad to find Draco's lips on his shoulder. It was in the past now, nothing but unpleasant memories, dulled by time.

"They didn't even take me back. They just dumped me in the street, I was as good as dead. That's when Spill found me. And he took me in and presented me to Lenny. I was the perfect candidate, vulnerable and miserable. But I didn't want any help. Not when I knew there would be a price to pay. I just wanted to find the others. So the minute I got back on my feet, I left to keep searching, I tried everywhere... but the country was torn apart by then, it was chaos. So I gave up, I persuaded myself everyone I cared about had died. It was my punishment. So I went back to Lenny, just like he knew I would. And I found oblivion. And the little voice in my head that told me it was all my fault disappeared."

As his tale ended, a heavy silence fell in the room.

"You know it's not, right? You're not to blame," Draco offered with a saddened voice.

But Harry wouldn't hear reason. "I should have let Voldemort kill me. I shouldn't have fought."

"And then he would have persisted in his destructive madness and taken over the world!" Draco snapped.

"You don't know what would have happened, no one will ever know!" Harry retorted. "And everything is already gone anyway."

Incensed, Draco raised his voice. "I know one thing: if he was still alive, I wouldn't be here with you. I would be grovelling at his feet, forced to submit and obey. I would be no more than a slave!" Harry hid his face in his arms while Draco continued, "But no, I'm here! I adapted! Only fools wallow in self-pity. Look at you! I've never seen someone this stupid!"

Harry turned but before he could voice his outrage, Draco spoke up.

"You didn't want all this! The monster's not you! If you want someone to blame then blame that snake-headed psychopath! But don't use it as a pretext to stop living! You're the master of your destiny, so live!"

Harry looked stunned by Draco's fevered speech. It had touched him. It was true, life had to go on. He had lost enough years as it was. Draco was staring at him, shaking with the aftershock of anger. Then

"I once knew a boy, brave and confident. No matter what life threw at him, he kept fighting. No matter the danger, or the pain, he kept his head high. I'd like to see him again. I'm sure he's still there somewhere."

Harry smiled tiredly. Draco took his hand and let the silence talk for them. No more was said for a long time.

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A valley. A beautiful valley. Harry's face was resting on Draco's glorious bottom, marvelling at its perfect shape. A wondrous creation. He caressed the left mount with his hand, Draco drowsing, his head nestled on his soft pillow.

"Did you ever submit to anyone?"

The quirkiness of Harry's question had the merit to wake Draco out of his slumber. He lifted his head a bit so his voice wouldn't be muffled by the pillow.

"You would know, you have me around your little finger."

Harry smiled. "No silly, I meant in bed."

"Again, you can be quite bossy under the sheets, baby."

"Cut it out," Harry laughed. "No, I meant..."

Draco smirked and settled his head back on the pillow. "You want to know if I ever took it up the arse? Then the answer is yes, I bottomed a few times. And no, I didn't particularly enjoy it."

Harry leaned back against Draco, contemplative all of a sudden. Interpreting his silence as disappointment, Draco craned his neck to watch him.

"Why? I don't remember you complaining about it before."

"Oh, I'm certainly not," Harry retorted.

"Is that a problem? Would you like to...?"

"No, no. I was just curious."

Draco smiled devilishly and gripped Harry by the waist to turn him around, putting his round bottom on display above his knees.

"What the hell...?" Harry squeaked.

A hard slap answered him.

"It would be too bad to let this beautiful arse go to waste."

Another slap. Mortified by the humiliating position, Harry writhed and tried to bat Draco's hands away.

"Let me go or I swear..." he shouted.

"A threat now? You're overstepping your boundaries darling."

A third slap on top the rosy flesh and Harry thrashed like a wild horse, punching Draco straight in the plexus. The blow hit hard and Draco's face scrunched up like he couldn't breathe anymore. He made a distress sound and instantly, Harry's hands were on him, face riddled with worry.

"Draco? You alright?"

The blonde's head had titled forward, obscuring his eyes and his shoulders sagged.

"Answer me! Draco?"

The blonde uncovered his face and tears spilled from his face, only it was not from pain but from laughter. Harry's body seemed ready to strike him again, fuming.

"You bastard!"

Draco tried to hug him to make peace but his laughter had barely died down and Harry wouldn't let him hold him. It took a few more attempts but eventually, Draco managed to capture him into his arms. He rolled over him and settled between the brunet's knees, fingers searching his entrance already.

"You think I'm that easy?" Harry croaked out.

"Absolutely," Draco answered with a purr.

His fingers did wonders and soon Harry closed his eyes. He let out a throaty cry and rested his forehead against the blonde's. His feet were on Draco's hips, his arms clinging to his, chest raised from the bed as if he were trying to climb him. Draco lifted one of Harry's legs and turned him on his side before positioning himself so he was kneeling on the bed. He pushed Harry's knee to open him up and slid slowly inside of him. A moment of bliss. He breathed loudly and pushed further inside. Harry scrunched his eyes and waited for the burn to pass, his right leg hanging in the air. Draco put the brunet's calf on his shoulder while keeping his hand on his knee, and thrust. His movements were deliberately slow, savouring the sensation, letting Harry feel him all the way. Harry gripped the pillow under his head and his body undulated sensually.

"Hm... I'm so full of you."

Draco grinned and leaned forward, bending his knee further to get closer to him.

"Look at you. Don't tell me you wouldn't miss it," he breathed out. His hips jerked forward. A moan. Harry's body convulsed and he stretched his arms over his head, his body offered on the bed. "I know you too well."

Harry answered with another moan, eyes closed in pleasure. His body was welcoming whatever Draco was giving him. A vicious thrust from Draco and Harry's eyes popped open with a gasp. They looked at each other with defiance and lust.

"You love this too," Harry slurred. "Filling me, owning me..." His words were having their effect on the blonde. His hand closed on Harry's knee more fiercely, his eyes glowing with a new intensity. "No one knows my body like you do."

And with this, Draco bent forward to capture his mouth, plundering it with passion, their tongues tangling. A string of saliva kept them connected when their lips parted and their eyes stayed linked as Draco sped the rhythm, Harry keening deliciously under him. Draco's mouth twisted, his eyes screwed up with effort. Then he grabbed Harry's other leg and pushed both his knees over his head so the brunet was folded in two, Draco's hands holding his ankles awkwardly. Little cries kept flowing out of Harry's mouth without control as he looked up at the blonde with a helpless air. He could feel the burn inside and out, his ankles would no doubt bruise but he couldn't care less. Draco was going at it like a mad man, his hips jerking frantically as if trying to break the lithe brunet under him. His forehead was pearling, their bodies gliding together with sweat. Draco looked in pain as he did his best to undo Harry, the latter gripping his arms hard, sure his body would give up at any moment. It was all sweat and fire. Then Draco grabbed Harry's wrists and pinned them to the bed, giving him the coup de grace. One more hard thrust was enough for Harry to spill all over himself. Now that he had satisfied his lover, Draco let go in turn and with one, two thrusts, he was done. All the air left him in a big "Oof!" then he patted Harry's thigh with a content sigh. They disentangled themselves messily, their bodies wrecked on the half-undone sheets, panting loudly in the silent room.

"We're a match made in heaven," Draco said breathlessly.

"I'd say," Harry concluded.

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"Shouldn't we get going?" Harry asked.

"Not in this weather."

The rain was raging now, drenching the land and making the trees dance outside. Harry hummed, cocooned as he was between Draco's legs, both sitting on the floor facing the window, Draco' back to the bed. The morning was still young and they were not ready to face the world yet. Draco smelled Harry's hair and brushed it behind his ears.

"What about your affairs of the heart?"

Harry tilted his head aside in question though he couldn't see Draco's face in this position.

"You say I have secrets but you're not an open book either," Draco kept on. "Quite the opposite actually. I dread to find out what you're still hiding from me."

It was the last thing Harry wanted to hear. There could be no more doubts, no more secrets between them. This night would seal this promise. He gripped Draco's forearm and turned his legs aside to bury his nose on the blonde's neck. He deposited a quick kiss there.

"Draco, we said we'd be honest to each other. Ask me and I'll tell you everything you want to know," he said softly.

"I keep wondering how you ended up fornicating with men," he chucked.

Harry shook his head.

"You must admit it's quite a stretch from sweet virgin Ginevra."

Harry's breath caught in his throat at the mention of the name and his eyes wandered away to allow him an instant to himself.

"I'd expected you to be married by now," the blonde drawled, "Ginny would have churned out two or three brats. Heaven knows the Weasley tribe needs to be propagated."

Harry squirmed to get up but Draco imprisoned his legs wile keeping him close to his chest.

"When they found you, you didn't jump into her arms? No trumpets? No fireworks?"

"Things changed," Harry muttered.

"You fell out of love."

"I'm not sure I was in love in the first place," Harry retorted, his tone surprisingly harsh.

"Hm. It has nothing to do with your new appreciation for men then." It earned him a look of reprobation. "What? I don't remember you fancying boys at school."

"You neither."

"And yet I did nothing to hide it."

It peaked Harry's interest and he pushed his hand on the blonde's chest to take a better look at him.

"You dated a boy in Hogwarts? Who?"

"Who said anything about dating? And please, don't turn this around now."

Harry pouted and slumped down against the blonde.

"So when was it?" Draco pried. "Who was your first?"

Harry seemed strangely conflicted. Was it out of embarrassment? A sense of propriety? No, it could only mean one thing: the answer wouldn't please Draco. Apparently, the blonde came to the same conclusion, for he let the question drop with a tight voice.

"You don't have to tell me," he said.

Harry looked at the floor, his eyes somewhat colder.

"It was Anderson."

Draco's face closed off dangerously and Harry wished he had kept it from him when he'd had the chance.

"I see," Draco said, dislodging Harry from between his legs by getting up. He rubbed his temple roughly with the heel of his hand and reached the drawers of the chest, opening them one by one, searching for something. "So he's not just another john or... some _friend _like you put it."

He banged close one of the drawers and opened another, unceremoniously pushing the things inside.

"Ah there you are," he whispered.

"He is," Harry protested vainly from his position on the floor.

Draco turned around with a bottle of scotch in his hands and scrutinized Harry, eyes boring into his as if looking for a hidden truth.

"Right. The chairman of the Division, no less."

With one swift motion of the hand, the bottle's cap was undone and fell to the floor. Harry followed it as it rolled down and landed under the bed then lifted imploring eyes to the blonde.

"Draco, let's not make a big deal out of this!" he said, gripping the corner of the bed with one hand.

"I'm not!" the blonde bit back, the bottle dangerously tipping down from his hand. "But I can feel a headache coming, so I might as well get wasted."

"Sure, that'll help," Harry mumbled.

Draco narrowed his eyes and swallowed down a big gulp of scotch. He scrunched his eyes and wiped his mouth. He raised the bottle toward Harry. "With Higgs compliments."

"No thanks," Harry grimaced.

The blonde shrugged and took another gulp. He walked to the window and leaned on it.

"So you screwed that scumbag and you had an epiphany: you loved cock?" He chuckled. "Must have been a hell of a shag"

Harry turned his head away. Alcohol would soon loosen the blonde's tongue and by the looks of it, he wouldn't be a happy drunk.

"You'd better shut up now. And put that bottle down."

Draco grinned and, for the sake of bravado, immediately drank again.

"Did he ruin you?" he asked. "Plundered your arse so you could feel him for weeks? I bet he did. The chairman, a powerful man."

"Draco stop," the brunet chided in a cutting voice.

"How was it?" Draco asked, stepping away from his spot to come closer to Harry. The latter hid his face against his knees to block him out.

They would not fight again.

"I need a cigarette," Draco suddenly declared, his head whirling left and right, looking everywhere and nowhere.

Harry looked up at that. "You're smoking now?" he said tiredly.

"No, but this is the kind of moment that requires a cigarette," the other answered almost petulantly.

He bent down to plunk the bottle down on the floor and fell silent again. The rush of adrenalin leaving his veins, he slumped his shoulders and slowly crouched down to face Harry. Their faces were now so close Harry could smell the liquor on his breath, could see the veil of its poison falling over his glassy eyes.

"I'm not angry, but I want to know," Draco said softly. "Tell me. There must be something about him." His face turned sullen, almost melancholic all of a sudden. "Sweet Harry," he said, and with the back of his hand, he caressed the skin under the brunet's chin. "I wish I was the one deflowering you, teaching you everything..."

His voice, the images his words were conjuring lit a fire in the pit of the brunet's stomach.

"Every pleasure spot, every touch... you would learn pleasure by my hand, my mouth and my cock only. If only I had been the first."

Harry stared at him with something akin to adoration.

"It doesn't matter who was my first. It's the last that counts."

Draco laughed it off. "Your first time is always special. It stays with you forever."

"What about your first then?"

"What about it?" Draco slurred.

"Who was it?"

"A cousin."

Harry couldn't hide the surprise on his face.

"Are you shocked?" Draco said. "No, of course you're not." He leaned his back on the bed. "You didn't know him. He died that day."

That day. Of course.

One of many victims.

Harry bent forward to grab the bottle of scotch and drank. He put it down prematurely when the burn in his throat sent him coughing and sputtering. He wiped his mouth and rubbed the cap over the bottle's neck.

"It felt good not to be in charge for once, to have someone taking over and just... feel," he said. "I didn't have to worry if I was doing it right, I knew exactly where to touch them, how to pleasure them. With men, it's so simple. You don't feel guilty when all you want is raw sex, no feelings, no need to be careful... I love that."

He glanced sideways at Draco. The man was listening attentively, with an air of understanding.

"I'd never thought I could desire a man, I'm not even sure I really liked the first times. It's all hazy. But I felt like I belonged in their arms."

He slid closer to Draco to match action to words and buried his head in his shoulder.

"To have these strong bodies around me, taking care of me, or to see them crawling at my feet... It was a revelation."

He felt Draco's chest tremble with amusement.

"Don't you mock me," Harry warned lightly, elbowing him at the same time.

"I'm not," he said. Then mirth left his face and concern took over. He looked gravely at Harry. "You think can handle Anderson? Keep your head cold? You can't let feelings come between you and the job."

"I think it's too late for that, don't you think?" he said, holding Draco's chin to kiss him tenderly.

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It was a disaster. Harry's mouth opened with horror. The jeans were stuck to his legs like a second skin and his dinosaur t-shirt was stretching up, letting his bellybutton show. He kept pulling at it relentlessly but to no avail.

"Stop it, you're making it worse."

"That bastard did it on purpose! These are kids' clothes, I can't wear this! Lend me some of yours."

Draco winced and rubbed his temple. "Stop yelling ok. We already wasted too much time. The rain finally stopped but who knows for how long. You'll change when we arrive, ok?"

Harry grumbled but had no choice other than to follow Draco out. The blonde was kind enough to give him his jacket to cover his outfit. A grim expression on his face, Harry climbed on the motorbike behind him. They had to hit the road. Destination: the "Weasley Fortress" in Allhallows, Kent.

They were riding for five minutes when what they feared happened: sirens blasted and a police car appeared from nowhere. It overtook them before they could do anything. Draco calmly cut the engine and patted Harry's knee to reassure him. Keep control of the situation.

Harry brushed his fringe down to cover his scar while the blonde lifted his visor. The policeman got out of his vehicle. He looked in his thirties, with a round face and dropping eyes. A bit overweight. A policeman who didn't see a lot of action in this quiet little town. It was definitely an advantage for them. If the situation got out of hand, Draco would shoot.

The man yanked his pants up by the belt loops, his belly hanging over it, and posted himself in front of Draco. The blonde took a surprised voice.

"Hello sir, is there a problem?"

The policeman looked down at the motorcycle then turned accusing eyes to them. Draco was ready for any eventuality, his hand outstretched along his leg. There, fixed around his ankle, an automatic gun. The policeman finally spoke, his words like a well rehearsed reprimand.

"Are you aware the helmet is mandatory both for the driver _and _the passenger?"

Harry was stupefied. A ridiculous infraction. The policeman was already drawing out his notebook, about to ask them for their details. They had to defuse the situation right now.

Harry opened his jacket to uncover his sinfully tight, revealing outfit. To hell with decency. He had a card to play. He hopped down off the motorbike, rolling his hips as he started crowding the dumbfounded policeman.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, officer," he simpered. "I tried to warn him but my little dragon wouldn't listen to me," He ran his hand up and down Draco's thigh while suggestively staring at the policeman. "And now we're in the middle of nowhere, and my hair's a mess, and I'm starving! I'm so very, very hungry," he ended, lecherous.

It was a silly move but Harry's over the top acting seemed to stun the official, and that was the exact reaction he had been looking for.

"But don't you worry, officer, I promise that as soon as we return to civilisation, I will get one of these awful helmets to protect my little head."

Harry brushed the law enforcer's arm, the man too bemused to react. Harry gave him an appreciative look, mouth pursed. He smiled devilishly, the motion turning his green eyes cat-like.

"My, are you working out?" He leaned forward to whisper to the man's hear. "I have a thing for uniforms you see."

The policeman regained his bearings and jerked away, his notebook soon forgotten.

"I'm not... I don't..." he mumbled. "Oh God."

"You don't have to get all flustered," Harry cooed. "We're in an open relationship, I'm sure my dragon won't mind," he added to hammer the point home.

"Hum... thanks but I'm, well... I have to go," the policeman said steeping away from the motorbike. He realised what he'd just said and shook his head. "I mean it's alright this time, but don't... don't do anything stupid."

He shook his head again as if berating himself for the idiocy of his words.

Harry couldn't believe he had pulled it off. The policeman turned back to his car and Harry, all smiles, climbed up behind Draco.

"Don't think your little display wasn't insulting," the blonde whispered. "You think you seduced him with your flamboyant gay act? Scared him off is more like it."

Harry chuckled softly when he heard a crackling, then a voice on the car's radio gave a code, then

" … _The two suspects of the Egham murder have been spotted at Baintree. They're driving a black motorbike. Their description: a blonde man, 24 years old, 5'9'', grey eyes and a dark-haired man, 24 years old, 5'55'', green eyes, a lightning bolt scar on the forehead. Roadblocks are set up..."_

The policeman froze half-inside the car, his hand on the still opened door. His back to the two men, he didn't move right away and it felt like time had dilated, everything appearing both sharper and distant. The man made a move back. The roof of the car pushed his hat which fell on the floor. He moved his arm to grab his radio in reply when

_Bang! Bang! _

Two holes in the petrol tank. The explosion took only a second, a furious roar, a burst of flames, a strong push like a wave crashing on them and the world turned upside down.

The backlash had shaken up Harry and Draco who had fallen on the floor, the motorcycle lying beside them. The shock had been great and Harry's arm jolted when he tried to move, all bruised and battered. He coughed and opened his eyes, a bit disoriented, looking for the policeman. Behind the sizzling flames, he made out the blackened body on the floor. The man had been propelled a few meters backward, now unconscious on the asphalt.

He closed his eyes a second with the hard realisation that they were back in the open, that they were safe no more. A moan behind him caught his attention and turned in time to see Draco rise painfully and tuck his gun back on his ankle.

"Let's go," the blonde said with a hoarse voice.

Harry rubbed his scratched palms on his dirty jeans and forced himself to stand. He ached all over and had to take a moment to catch his breath. While Draco was lifting the bike back up, Harry noticed a slight limp in the blonde's left leg. He would have to check the wound for he knew Draco wouldn't bother to.

It took several tries before the motorbike started but eventually they left the scene. Harry didn't look behind this time. The policeman was surely alive.

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A few miles later, looking worse for wear on their vehicle, Harry and Draco finally found some signs of life: there was a small farm in the distance and a man was loading his lorry further away, down the slope. Draco stopped the engine. He got off and motioned for Harry to do the same. He detached his backpack and the satchel with the computer inside and put them on the ground. He then rolled the bike to the other side of the road and, with a hard push, threw it in the ravine. The bike tumbled down, soon completely hidden by the wild grass. Harry was afraid to understand what Draco had planned. And sure enough, with decided steps, Draco crossed the road and tore down the herby slope, making his way to the gravel path where the farmer was standing.

"Draco?" Harry called between his teeth.

The brunet followed behind him with wide strides. He didn't want the blonde, pushed by the situation's urgency, to give in to violence. He was almost running when he arrived at Draco's side. He was only a few steps away from the farmer.

"Hello!" Draco shouted with a frightening smile.

Harry caught his arm from behind. "Draco, please," he begged with a strained voice.

The blonde just smiled and got closer.

"We've had a few transportation issues. We're going to Kent. Can you help us?"

Dressed in old tweeds and rubber boots, the farmer threw a pile of scrap copper in the back of his flatbed and turned toward them. With his furrowed face and his sharp stare, he looked anything but friendly.

"Who are you?" he spat dryly.

Harry closed his jacket tighter over him to conceal his clothes. He wasn't sure his look would inspire confidence. The guy was distrustful, better take all the precautions. Draco opened his arms to show he meant no harm.

"Simply two guys left stranded," he said in a weary voice.

The man fixed them with a scowl. It didn't bode well. Harry shifted from one foot to another and turned his eyes to the open vehicle. Something there caught his attention: the barrel of a rifle sticking out of the passenger seat. Instinctively, he pulled at Draco's sleeve to get him away but the latter stood his ground.

All of a sudden, the farmer's face darkened drastically. Harry stopped moving, the image of the man brandishing his gun toward them playing in his head. Draco was alert too, his arm against his leg, ready to dive for his automatic at the mere suggestion of a move.

"I know you," the other said, suspicious.

Wasn't it their luck? Harry tugged at Draco's sleeve, ready to bolt, his breathing growing shorter by the second. The man suddenly whirled around. Harry half-turned, Draco crouched down, his hand on the gun. Only nothing happened. The man hadn't gone to his car to take his rifle as they dreaded. No. He had lifted his greyish hair to show them the scar on his nape. Draco unfolded his hand and stood as if the mark was a sign of trust, a free pass. Harry didn't feel the same recognition. Perhaps because he, himself, had none.

The man faced them again.

"I'm with you guys!" he exclaimed, coming their way to shake their hands earnestly. "All these jackals want to get rid of us? I'll tell you what, they're going to be surprised when we'll mow them all down. The Egham massacre? Well done, guys! Four down, well done."

From one extremism to the other. Harry was sick of these hateful speeches, but he wasn't about to argue, not when the man could be their saving grace.

"Harry Potter, wanted," the man said, trying to peak at the scar on his forehead. "What's the world coming to?" He fixed the brunet's with shiny eyes and patted his shoulder. "My name is Pavo. It's an honour. The boy-who-lived… The one who was supposed to save us all. Isn't it tragic?"

Harry stiffened, struck by his last words he couldn't quite comprehend.

"Oh, I don't blame you," Pavo added, his hand still on his shoulder. "Gods like to play with us. That's the way it is."

Draco felt Harry's unease in front of the hidden accusation and pressed the farmer to help them leave town. The man finally left Harry alone to make room for them in the back of the truck. Draco observed Harry who reassured him with a smile though he avoided his eyes. They crouched down without a word and unfolded a blue tarpaulin to cover themselves. They vaguely heard barking in the distance then two beasts sprung out of nowhere, sharp fangs out. Both men started and scampered to the far back with wide eyes. The farmer's face appeared right between them, through the glass of the driver's cabin.

"Titus! Tiberius! That's enough!" he shouted with a harsh voice. When it failed to calm them, he joined them inside and gave them a hard blow on the muzzle. The two dogs surrendered, now docile and silent in front of their master.

Draco sat down, relaxing again, trying to stretch his legs through the piles of scrap copper surrounded them. Pavo probably planned to sell the copper off. Harry lay down and tried to find a comfortable spot but there were too much wire and junk around. He had to contort himself and bear with it. Pavo closed the doors with a nod and left the dogs with them. It didn't reassure the two men inside.

"Good dogs," Draco said, lying cautiously next to Harry. He lifted the wide blue tarpaulin and concealed their things under. He then covered Harry roughly with it, joining him under it a moment later, the smell of the thick plastic unpleasant against their noses.

"We're going lads. I hope you're comfortable in there," Pavo shouted from the driver seat.

"We're dandy," Harry muttered sarcastically.

The truck finally moved, the tired engine spluttering dangerously. Alone in the dark, shaken by the car jolts, with the dogs' heavy breathing and occasional yelps, it was difficult to stay calm. There were roadblocks on the way, and if they were stopped, there would be nowhere to flee. Suddenly, the truck made a sharp move and some copper wires flew on the tarpaulin, half-burying the two men and giving them a bit of a fright. It was hard to breathe in these conditions, so they kept their heads low to find more air.

All their bearings were lost, thus there was no way to tell how many time had passed when the car stopped for a prolonged time. Had they arrived yet? But there was no sign of Pavo.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered to Draco.

He wasn't expecting an answer, but voicing his concern helped him relieve the stress. Doubts clouded his mind, putting Pavo's loyalty in question. Had he delivered them to the Division? No, a roadblock was more plausible. Harry sealed the tarpaulin tightly over his head.

Then the doors creaked and opened. The light bathed them in a flashing blue and unknown voices reached them. His head turned to Draco, Harry could only see patches of skin and clothes covered here and there by blue plastic: fingers, an ear, a few blonde strands, green cotton. They had to stay perfectly still, and to achieve it, Harry stopped breathing altogether. Then a shock: a heavy blow against his leg. Harry bit his lip to smother a yell. He breathed out silently.

Then groans and barks burst out. The dogs, upset by the newcomers started to get excited and the mood grew even scarier. Harry heard shouts but they were barely intelligible with all the ruckus, the soundproof barrier of the tarpaulin, his non-functional ear and the other stuck to the cold floor. He felt the truck subsiding: someone had climbed on. Then someone else, if the movement was anything to go by. If only he could see but there was only blue. Under the plastic, the sound of both Draco's and his breathing, hindered by the lack of air and the tension, invaded everything. His sweaty face was now stuck to the plastic and it felt like he would asphyxiate in a matter of seconds. He reached out discretely with his fingers and caught Draco's hand under the plastic. He squeezed it hard and Draco squeezed it back. That alone grounded him and he stopped thinking to just lie there waiting.

A loud yell pierced the air and Harry's eyes danced around, curious and eager to see. What had happened? Then one of the dogs yelped and the other one redoubled energy. One of them had attacked from the sound of it. The voices amplified then the floor moved again, and finally stabilized. They were gone. Harry and Draco waited for the car to move to rejoice fully. The danger was over.

Harry uncovered his head and took a deep breath, his hair stuck to his face.

"It was close!"

Draco removed the plastic in turn. "Nothing like a trip in economy class."

He barely finished when one of the dogs came over licking his face. The blonde made a disgusted noise but Harry began to cackle next to him. Draco joined him quickly, letting all the pressure go in a burst of laughter.

Half an hour later, Pavo knocked twice on the side to tell them they had finally made it to Kent and freed he them from their plastic shroud.

"Kids, I feel like I'm helping you cross the border! When you have to hide like this, it's not exactly a picnic, huh? Ain't that a shame!"

Draco and Harry jumped out the truck, eyes half-blinded by the brutal light of the day. Harry hugged Pavo and thanked him warmly. Even if the man was ignorant, he had helped them in spite of the consequences. Draco shook his hand in the same fashion. Their ways parted after a last shout:

"We'll get them!"

Harry grabbed his backpack and took a look around. He recognized the area: they weren't far from the Weasleys. Memories rushed back to him. It was there he had found refuge after he had left Lenny. It was there he had brought Remus after his escape. And here he was now, by Draco's side, in the same if not worse situation. His melancholy must have shown on his face for Draco unexpectedly grabbed him by the shoulder and turned his face to kiss him. A brief comforting gesture that had the ability to make him smile again.

They made their way to Diggerland, an amusement park created around the theme of mechanical diggers. Arthur had found the idea brilliant. They by-passed the site to arrive in front of an isolated alley. There stood a little house with a fence. It was modest and discrete, and went unnoticed in the area. Harry stopped and observed it closer. The walls had turned yellow and the roof was in a shoddy state but other than that, the place hadn't changed much. For him, it was the closest thing to home. He remembered when he had come here for the first time, frail and sick. Desperate. Charlie had rushed to him and the whole family had welcomed him with open arms. Everyone but Ginny. Harry knew this time would be no different.

"That's the 'the Fortress'? 'Old Dump' would be more appropriate," Draco grumbled.

Of course Draco would complain. He was reticent to come here, into the Weasley den, a hostile territory for him. Harry couldn't say he wasn't worried too. There was no way to guess how the encounter would go. The blonde moved toward the side of the house, inspecting the place with a critical eye. Harry's eyes followed him, then _Bang!_ They snapped around to see a red blur rushing toward him in a big hug. Not Charlie, no, but Bill who lifted him up off the ground. His arms crushed against his friend's biceps, Harry let him smother him, joy and surprise written on his face. Deep down, he had been scared to be rejected or even judged. Since the infamous X-Stacy party, he knew he had worried the family.

Bill let go of him after a few seconds and Harry looked up at him, a bit shy. It had been so long since they had last seen each other. The tall red head ruffled Harry's hair fondly and took in Harry's state.

"What happened to you this time?"

"It's nothing," Harry answered, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. "A little accident on the road."

Bill smirked, hands on his hips. "So you're finally here! Everyone will be so glad."

Harry smiled weakly. He still feared the family's reactions. He had a lot to answer to.

"They're all in the lair," Bill continued.

He put his arm around Harry's shoulder and was about to lead him inside when the brunet turned to his right: Draco had just reappeared, his walk nonchalant, a haughty look on his face. A self-defence mechanism.

"Weasley… Which one is it already?"

Bill stopped and narrowed his eyes at him with flagrant animosity.

"Ah, I see you brought your new _friend_," he said, voice venomous.

Predictable.

Better make things clear right away, it wouldn't do to get off to a bad start. Harry left Bill's side to sidle next to Draco. He took Draco's hand and held Bill's stare. The blonde looked astonished. He probably hadn't expected Harry to jump to his defence in such an explicit way.

"Draco's with me. I hope it won't be a problem."

If there was any doubt left in Bill's mind, the declaration had swept them away. Bill read the determination in Harry's words and eyes and it seemed to appease him. He smiled half-heartedly.

"Of course not. Welcome Malfoy."

Draco nodded to return the greeting.

Seeing no need to prolong the awkward welcome, the red head swiftly walked back inside, leaving the door open behind him in invitation. Harry took a deep breath, squeezed Draco's hand and crossed the threshold.

* * *

**Izzy: **I took my time, didn't I? And I'm happy to be back!

Aww thank you, it really means a lot to me. *Hugs you* And don't worry, I don't plan to disappear for six months again!

**Rapid fan:** I'm glad to heart that! Thank you so much.


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